East of the Sun and West of the Moon
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: AU ending for New Moon. What if, when Edward suspects Bella is dead, he instead rushes back to Forks? What struggle would he face when he finds she's alive? And what if the only one who discovers he's back is Leah Clearwater?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I have long believed that Bella and Edward is not a healthy match. _However_, I also believe that Edward has the potential to be a deep, powerful and interesting character, and he deserves a mate that is an equal partner—someone who will both challenge and encourage him. A few reviews I received for my story "Full Moon" got the wheels turning, and this is the result. If you are Team Edward, I promise to do justice to your favorite vampire. If you are Team Jacob, I swear you will be as satisfied as you were with "Full Moon." Please leave a review (they are invaluable to me) and enjoy!_

_VVVVVVVVVV_

East of the Sun and West of the Moon

VVV

_Once in a land not too far from here and in a time not too long ago_

_There lived a farmer and his wife._

_They had a daughter whom they both loved deeply._

_The farmer and his wife had plenty,_

_And their daughter never suffered any hardship._

_She had her pick of all the best young men in the kingdom,_

_But none was quite to her liking._

_Then, for reasons that only God knows,_

_Their fate changed._

_The king of that land went to war and his soldiers took away all their food and livestock._

_That winter was very hard._

_The farmer became ill, and his wife spent most over time nursing him._

_Their daughter had to learn to hunt to bring food to their table._

_Her fine clothes became rags_

_And her hands grew rough._

_The young men of the kingdom saw her and said to each other,_

"_Not only does this maiden no longer have any dowry,_

_But she has become rough as a peasant!"_

_In her heart the maiden grew bitter and thought,_

"_Who will have me now?"_

_VVV_

_**EDWARD**_

I had ridden in coaches through the blackest streets of Chicago, coal dust in my lungs and chill seeping through the wooden, rattling walls. I had been pulled down to the edge of Death by the icy grip of the Spanish fever. I had sat on the peak of Everest on the night of a new moon and gazed out over the desolate snow. But never had I felt so cold as I did sitting on the red-eye flight from Rome to New York.

I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just stared at the back of the first class seat in front of me, my hands clenched around the armrests.

Bella was dead. Rosalie had told me about Alice's vision, and then when I had called to speak to Mr. Swan, a voice I had recognized as Jacob Black's told me Mr. Swan was arranging a funeral. There was only one thing that could mean.

And yet, as I once more sent the approaching stewardess a withering glare, I refused to believe it. Bella was stronger than that. I knew she was. And Mr. Swan was a rare good man, and Jacob Black…

I knew Jacob loved her. It was plain every time he met her eyes. He was young and brash, but fierce and resolute—even if he was one of them. He and Mr. Swan could protect Bella, make her happy. I knew this. I had told myself that every time was about to hijack a plane and fly back from Europe.

Rosalie's message, however, had shattered all my illusions. And I had the experience to know that even when they are surrounded by loving and protective friends, desperate and determined people can still do rash and stupid things. I remembered Esme—I knew she had had people who loved her, even if her husband hadn't—and yet she had tried to kill herself after the death of her baby. She would have succeeded, if not for Carlisle. And if Jacob had not gotten there in time to save Bella…

I had to know. I had to make certain what had happened. I had to be sure that this was an accident, or a mistake.

Or I might do something rash and stupid of my own.

VVVVVVVVVVV

I had told Alice I was going back to Forks—I called her right after I called the Swan residence. I also told her and my family to stay away. They were in Seattle, which was good enough. I told Carlisle I would meet them there. I did not say how prompt I would be.

I strode off the airplane first, carrying a small bag. I had a few clothes and things in there—I didn't want them, but after traveling to every country on the planet during the past seventy years, I knew that passengers without bags drew suspicion.

I swept up the ramp and into the Seattle airport, my long black coat fluttering behind me. The chatter of a thousand people's thoughts surrounded me as I passed through the gate and made my way down the white tiled hall, but I tuned out the mental noise, just as I tuned out the audible bustle of a busy crowd. As I walked, I lowered my head and straightened my shoulders. Everyone got out of my way.

Morning was new, but it was raining as I stepped through the revolving doors and into the chill air. Staying under the overhang and peering through the swish and rumble of the traffic, I hailed the first cab I saw. I climbed in, and rode in silence until the cab reached the outskirts of Seattle. I watched the rain leave trails on the window. I vaguely remembered a time when my breath would have fogged up the glass.

"Let me off here," I finally said, without looking at the driver.

"Here?" The cab driver's surprise hit me like a slap. I winced.

"Yes."

He slowed down. I grabbed my bag and pushed open the door.

"Thank you," I said, putting my hand on the wet roof of the car. I bent, and handed him a $100 bill through the gap in the plastic partition. He yelped about my change, but I was already gone. I slammed the door and stepped off the road into the grass as the driving rain hit me. It soaked my coat and hair and ran down my face. My boots sloshed through a puddle in the ditch as I made for the dark of the forest. I sensed the cab driver's unspoken bafflement behind me as he stalled there, watching me go. I did not look back.

As soon as the towering, silent trees shielded me from sight, and the pine needles silenced my footsteps, I dropped my bag, shed my coat and broke into a run.

Trees, ferns and boulders flashed past, and the raindrops that made it through the thick branches struck me like nails. The rain rushed like the sound of a river over my head. The wind cried—moaned, as if it was weary. I ran faster.

I knew these woods—they had been my backyard for several years. I knew every deer trail, every fallen log, and every bend in each stream. I knew, exactly, the border of La Push. And I gritted my teeth as I crossed it.

I swept through the woods, not even displacing a leaf, my limbs feeling like ice. I ran until I heard whispers, fragments, of thoughts. And then I slowed. I had to fight to do that—I wanted to run right up to the people and demand to know what had happened. I glimpsed a clearing up ahead. I approached with care, keeping myself hidden.

I jerked to a halt. I recognized the color of this particular individual's thoughts. I frowned as I crept forward, listening with both my ears and my mind. And what I heard with my mind made no sense.

It was Jacob Black. He was in pain. But the fact that flared through my mind was that it was _old _pain, like a slapped scar.

_Mom…_ he murmured. _It looks just like the day we buried you. It even rained like this. Filled up our footprints with water. This is not fair. Why couldn't he just listen…?_

I squinted against the rain as I edged closer. A group of people stood in a huddled group beneath umbrellas, just on the edge of my range. They had their backs to me. Gray tombstones stood in lines, as silent as the people were. The rain droned all around.

It was a funeral. White light flashed across my vision as, for one sickening moment, I thought I'd stumbled across Bella's burial. And then I blinked. Would Bella be buried at La Push? I furrowed my brow, trying to keep my mind clear and focus.

The other people's thoughts were pained, as Jacob's were, in varying degrees. I knew that, with a few more moments of silence, I could begin to decipher them.

Until I was blasted through with a silent, primal scream as surely as if I had been shot through the head.

I ducked, and reflexively covered my ears. The next moment, the source clarified. It was a young woman somewhere in front of me, in the group of people.

Leah Clearwater. A wolf.

I stared at the assembly, stunned, my hands lowering. I could hear her sobbing, wailing, inside my scull, and yet everyone out there was motionless, calm. She was like a squall on a television turned to mute.

Why was _she _crying? What had shredded her heart like that? Bella's death? No, not to that extent…

A flicker of light began in my chest, like a candle in a vast cave.

Quickly, my mind darted back to find Jacob. His thoughts were more coherent.

_"…so glad my dad knows. Thank God. Poor Leah and Seth…We need to cook something and take it over to them. I'll probably burn it though, so—Bells!"_

It was like lightning had struck me. Jacob's sudden thought had brought a dozen unfamiliar images flashing through me: Bella in a garage, working on motorcycles; Bella at the movies, sad and distant; Bella laughing while being tickled…

And then, as I clutched a tree for support, unblinking, frozen to the spot, I saw movement at the edge of the group. I saw a black-clad Jacob, holding an umbrella, turn his shorn head when a girl came up beside him and clasped his arm. It was this contact that had prompted Jacob's sudden exclamation. She smiled at him. Jacob earnestly searched her face. The face I had memorized. The dark eyes, pretty features and chestnut hair.

Bella.

Bella Swan.

"_Has she forgiven me for hanging up on Edward?" _

I jerked as Jacob's worried thought darted past my left ear. I watched them as they didn't speak, except with their eyes. Bella's gaze softened at Jacob—an entirely unfamiliar look to me. And Jacob's mind flooded with elated and affectionate thoughts—I could not process them all. Bella said something to him, then reached down and slid her hand into his. Jacob gazed at her, transfixed.

_"I love you._" Jacob's thought made me reel—it was so vivid and clear. I swallowed hard, digging my fingers into the bark of the tree. I couldn't look away.

Alice had made a mistake. She was alive. My Bella was alive. And she had smiled, and taken the hand of another man. She didn't need me anymore.

I backpedaled. I almost slipped on wet foliage. I turned and ran.

I ran as hard as I could, not caring that I was plunging deeper and deeper into the wolves' territory.

I had only traveled a few miles before I began to shake. My feet stumbled. I caught myself against a tree, bent and threw up what I had eaten a week ago.

"It's better this way, you fool," I rasped through bloody lips. But the pain in my chest and gut kept traveling, kept clenching, so I staggered on.

Then, like a mounted highwayman, my guilt thundered up behind me, and rattled all my bones.

_You selfish coward, _It growled. _You twisted monster. You cannot be happy she's alive? You would rather she was dead?_

I snatched up a big stone from the base of a tree and struck myself across the head with it, trying to silence that voice. Pieces of rock flew. My head rang and my balance fled.

I let go, tumbling forward and downward into a knee-deep creek of snowmelt. The icy liquid shocked me for a moment. Then, I tore open my shirt. If the cold couldn't numb my limbs, perhaps it could numb my mind.

I surrendered to my vertigo and plunged into the water, face first. Striking the surface was like flash-freezing myself. I let out all my air, the bubbles hissing around my head, and sucked the water right into my lungs. It hurt. But not enough. I sank to the bottom and closed my eyes. My nose bumped a rock.

_It's better this way…_I repeated to myself, over and over.

But though I lay there until my thoughts faded into nothing, I still felt as if a long, narrow knife stuck out from between my ribs.

VVVVVVVVVV

A great length of time later—hours, days, weeks—something tugged sharply on the back of my shirt, with enough force to halfway rouse me. It flipped me over and slapped me down, like a caught fish on a rock. My head lolled back. My eyes did not move beneath their lids. It was as if I was frozen. Or dead.

My lungs were still full of water, so I could not draw breath to smell anything. But my upper body lay out of the water now. The air felt cool on my face. My ears picked up nothing but dull thuds. My head was full of water, too.

I forced my eyes open just a bit. Ice broke away from my lashes. I saw nothing.

Except two eyes. They glinted in the moonlight, several feet in front of me, on the other side of the creek. I tried to frown, to lift my head. I couldn't move. Perhaps the eyes were not real.

The wolf's gleaming teeth bared. It was real. And it was going to kill me. It should. I was an invader in La Push. I closed my eyes. I hoped it _would _kill me.

I waited. The water drained out of my ears. The dullness was replaced by the monotony of the creek. Nothing happened. And I faded back down into the dark.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for your reviews! I love them! Oh, and I forgot to tell you that the bits of fairytale I'm using at the beginnings of chapters belong to Mercer Mayer, with one or two little changes and rearrangements. I have chosen each passage SPECIFICALLY. Those of you fond of looking for symbolism and parallels should have a fun time, because they are certainly in there! The prayer within this chapter is from the Book of Common Prayer. Thanks again, and enjoy!_

_VVVVVVVVV_

TWO

_One day there came a knocking at the door. The maiden opened it and there sat _

_A frog._

"_I wish," said the frog. "that you come with me and be my bride."_

"_What you ask is impossible! _

_How could I possibly wed a frog?"_

LEAH

I ran away as soon as the funeral was done. I didn't care if people wanted to console me or give me cards or hugs or casseroles—I didn't want to look at Seth's face one more time. I couldn't. And I couldn't keep myself from screaming out loud anymore. And so, for once, I was thankful I could change my form into one that could not scream.

I phased as soon as I got out of sight—my black dress ripped apart at the seams and tumbled away, my shoes kicked off, and thick gray fur rushed and rippled all over my body. My mouth filled with razor teeth, my eyesight sharpened, my tail whipped out behind me and my broad paws struck the ground running. I was a wolf—powerful and vicious—and in this body I could get farther away from that hell behind me than I ever could as a human.

Rain struck me, but it might as well have been snowflakes for all I felt—my hide was far too thick. The water ran in streaks across my nose as I whipped past trees and rocks.

My chest felt as if it was ripping apart. Not my chest—my heart. My stupid, human heart. I pushed myself faster. I sucked in air like a jet engine, forcing that pain out. My paws pounded the ferns and pine needles. I crashed through a small stream and kept going, ignoring the mud that splattered all over me.

Thunder rolled overhead. My heart thudded like a hammer on an anvil, and I snarled and rasped in my throat even as I pushed my pace.

A gunshot.

I jerked to a halt, my head snapping up, my ears perking. I sucked in quick breaths through my nose. I blinked as the rain got in my eyes. I could not smell anything because of it.

Had that really been a gunshot? It had been swift _crack_, but it didn't sound _quite _right…

Calming my breathing and shoving my human thoughts to the back of my head, I swept forward, silent, my eyes darting from tree to tree.

More sounds. Rustling through the brush. I sank low, and crept through the ferns.

Slowly, I raised my head as my eyes focused ahead of me. A man. A man drenched by rain, his white shirt and black pants torn. He was about fifty paces in front of me, his back to me. He staggered forward, moaning and gasping as if he had been stabbed.

Or shot.

My pulse leaped as my head came up again. _Had _he been shot?

I hurried forward, bracing myself to phase back, ignoring the fact that I didn't have anything to wear if I did. I didn't think a man who was bleeding to death would care much.

I rushed up behind him even as he tumbled forward into a knee-deep stream, prepared to catch his shirt with my teeth. I lunged forward, opened my mouth—

And leaped back, snorting like I'd been sprayed by a skunk. He reeked. He reeked like musty cellars and rotten cloth, and…

Blood.

My eyes went wide and my lips drew back from my teeth as I went completely still.

He was a vampire.

I stayed where I was on the bank as he ripped his shirt open and collapsed forward into the stream. My heart had gone cold, and I watched stonily as I wondered what he was doing. He thrashed once. He sank, and caught against some rocks that kept him from being pulled downstream. After that, he did not move.

I sat there all day, my yellow eyes fixed on his back. I watched the way the fabric of his white shirt flowed back and forth with the icy, clear water. I observed his hands, like white marble, spread out to either side of him.

I knew he wasn't dead. Vampires don't have to breathe—Billy and Sam had told me as much. But what was he doing out here, so deep into pack territory? I couldn't smell him to identify his individual scent because he was in the water, and I couldn't see his face. Maybe he was a vampire from up north, who was ignorant of the pact.

In any case, I ought to kill him. I knew I should. It would be easy. And it would feel _so _good after the day I had just had…

Still, I waited.

Twilight came. The sky darkened. He did not stir. Night unfolded, the stars peeked out, and a beautiful full moon covered the earth in silver light. The vampire looked like a ghost—like the spirit of some pioneer who had drowned long ago. Still, he didn't move.

I huffed. My breath formed a cloud around my head. I stepped forward, trotted down the bank, sloshed into the creek and came right up to the vampire. I leaned down, plunged my nose into the freezing liquid, bit the back of his shirt and flung him up and over.

His limp body sprawled halfway onto the bank. His skull whacked against the stones, his arms landed heavily and his chest sounded like a sack of rocks. He looked absolutely _dead_. But he also looked familiar.

I backed away from him, snarling, as fire blazed through my veins.

I knew that carven face, those strong cheek-bones, dark eyebrows and lashes, straight nose and deceptively delicate mouth. It was Cullen. Edward Cullen. The one who had stolen Bella from Jake and then broken her heart. It wasn't that I cared about Bella—I didn't at all, in fact—but I liked Jacob. And he loved Bella. And if this Edward suddenly made a reappearance…

I snapped my jaws. I ought to tear out his throat right now. None of the other blood-suckers would know, and my pack wouldn't care. In fact, Jacob and Sam would be happy about it.

He moved. I twitched. He turned his head, just a little, and opened his eyes. I saw his neck tense, as if he was trying to lift his head. He couldn't.

His pale lips moved. Water leaked from his mouth—I guessed his lungs and throat were full of it. His eyelids fluttered closed. My lips tightened at him, but I was curious. I stepped forward into the gurgling water, and eyed him, my vibrant vision catching every movement of his lips. And I went still when I saw what he was mouthing—the words strung hurriedly together like the beads of a rosary.

"Look with mercy, O God our Father, on all whose increasing  
years bring them weakness, distress, or isolation. Provide for  
them homes of dignity and peace; give them understanding  
helpers, and the willingness to accept help; and, as their  
strength diminishes, increase their faith—" His throat spasmed, his head jerked back,

and he coughed. I flew backward, out of the stream, my eyes fixed on him. He gagged and turned onto his side, bloody water spilling from his mouth. He coughed and sucked in air hard, and it rattled. He fell back, his body slapping the bank. I don't think he was conscious.

His chest lay open to the moonlight, and I could see his skin glittering. Strange. And it didn't rise and fall. I shivered and backed away further.

I would get some clothes and come back here. Something wasn't right. I was going to ask him some questions when he woke up. And if he gave me any answers I didn't like, I'd kill him then.

VVVVVVVV

EDWARD

Sun hit my face. It roused me as surely as if someone had slapped me. My eyes drifted open.

Morning lit this little stone-filled canyon with a golden glow. The skin of my arms and bare chest beneath the water sent shattered beams of light glancing everywhere, making it look as if someone had dumped thirty pounds of fool's gold amongst the rocks. I almost let my eyelids drift closed again.

Until I realized I wasn't alone.

A young woman in shorts and a black tank top sat cross-legged on a boulder off to my left, near a bend in the creek. She looked comfortable, quiet, as if she had been waiting. She had copper skin, jet black shoulder-length hair, and midnight eyes that pinned me where I lay. She was muscular and gracefully formed, like a well-made knife. Her mouth was hard. She watched me. I didn't move. I halfway focused, stretching out weakly to read her thoughts.

I almost frowned. All I heard was a distant moan, like the wind out on the moor. Or an echo in a cave…

The girl canted her head.

"I heard all the Cullens had left. Months ago." Her tones were low and even. She narrowed her obsidian eyes. "What are you doing here?"

My brow twisted. Where was she? Again, my mind reached out to hers, but found nothing. I lifted my head—my shoulders were so frozen I could barely move. But I managed to sit up, eventually.

"I…" I tried, my voice so hoarse I almost didn't make a sound. "I came back because I thought…" I trailed off, my disjointed thoughts again focusing on the young woman across from me. I lifted my eyes to hers. My whole body was numb. I searched her face, squinting.

"Who are you?" I croaked. She arched an eyebrow.

"Leah Clearwater. And you're trespassing. Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Leah?" I repeated. "You were at the funeral. I heard you…" My dulled eyes drifted away.

"You heard me?"

I twitched. Not because I sensed her surprise. I twitched because I _should _have. And I _didn't_.

I lifted my hand—I pressed it to my face, but my fingers had no feeling, and seemed like icicles against my cheek. I shook out my hand, and it tingled. I winced.

"What do you mean, you heard me?" Leah persisted. I felt the back of my head. Odd. There was a small lump there…

"I can hear what people are thinking…usually…" I muttered, fighting against the haze in my mind.

"Having a little trouble?" There was an edge to her voice. But I almost could not decipher that. It was almost like talking to Bella.

My eyes shut and my throat closed. Pain danced up and down in my chest.

"Tell me, leech," Leah said, sliding down from the rock and walking toward me, staying on the other bank of the creek. Her bare feet crunched on the small stones. "Why did you come back here? And why are you this far into La Push? Don't you remember the agreement? At all?"

I ran my fingers over the lump on my head. My fingers trembled.

"I heard Bella was dead," I managed. "Had to come back to see…"

"Bella?"

I heard the growl in her chest—it shook the stones, although it was a quiet sound. I looked up and met her eyes. Her gaze was black. My hand stopped. I blinked. Water droplets fell from my lashes onto my cheeks and trickled down. I gave her a weak smile, then swallowed.

"She isn't dead." I laughed. It hurt my throat. "She's with Jacob Black, so…" I let my hand fall back down, and it splashed. My forehead twisted as I stared at the shimmering surface of the water, and I forgot what I was going to say to finish that sentence.

"You're right, she is with Jacob," Leah snapped. "And you'd better thank God she is."

I blinked again, then looked up, still bewildered at the blankness I felt instead of her mind.

"Why?" I asked.

Her mouth fell open, and she barked out a laugh.

"You didn't see it, did you? Bella had _no life _outside of you. Hardly any friends, and nothing to do. When you left, you took away her entire existence." She gestured in exasperation. "Jacob has spent _months _pulling her out of the black hole she fell into when you dumped her. If he hadn't been around to literally _force _her to smile and laugh again, I know she would have killed herself."

I swallowed again, but it was as if broken glass was sliding down my throat, and I couldn't clear it. I could only stare at Leah, as if in a dream. She held my gaze.

"I don't care for Bella particularly, but Jacob loves her. And he's a part of my pack." She pointed at me. "I won't see him broken because of you. You will stay away from her—and all humans—or I will kill you myself, do you understand?"

I nodded, swaying slightly, feeling sick again. She hesitated, as if she had not expected that. Or maybe not—maybe I was misreading her. It didn't matter.

I lay back down on the rocks and stared up into the sky, distantly marveling at the sensation of being unable to feel the lower half of my body.

"Fine." Leah said. "I will be watching you, Cullen."

I didn't answer. She left—faded back into the woods. I supposed she didn't leave altogether. After all, she said she would watch me…

A great shudder ran through me and I squeezed my eyes closed.

Oh, how I wished I could just freeze to death, and be rid of this crossways pain.

VVVVVVVVVVV

LEAH

I did watch him. I don't know how many hours a day I did, but I did. I left early in the morning, phased, and went to the place in the creek where he lay. Because that was all he did. Every day—and every night—for two weeks, he did not move from that spot. Almost his entire body, from his chest down, was submerged in that snowmelt water. Water that was so cold it hurt my tongue when I tried to drink it. He stared at the sky, blank. If I did not know better, I would have thought he was a corpse.

Yet I didn't tire of guard duty. In fact, I yearned for the chances I had to escape from my home and into the woods. Home was pain to me. Home was my brother's careworn face. Home was the sympathetic noises of my people. Home was the silent looks from my pack brothers. Home was empty and strange and wrong without my dad watching TV in the living room, or tinkering in the garage, or driving up in the driveway. The woods and the wolf and the vampire were distractions—they served to disengage my mind from the wracking torture I felt as a human.

Perhaps that was what Cullen was trying to do. Or maybe he was trying to kill himself.

He had been nearly incoherent when I had spoken to him. I had seen him feel his head with his hand—maybe he had hit it earlier. But any normal man would have been dead within half an hour of lying in that water. He was _trying _to numb himself, to put himself to sleep. And I knew the reason. I could see it on his face.

He was mourning. And he wasn't ready to let it go. Just like me.

And then, one night, he got up.

I had been lying down across the stream, keeping one eye half open, when I saw him stir, and drag himself to his feet. Water poured off him. He staggered sideways. I jumped up.

What was he doing?

He began to walk, slowly at first, then faster as he went. I followed him. I almost wish I hadn't.

He went hunting that night. Chased down a deer, threw it to the ground and devoured its blood. And he wasn't clean about it, either. I guessed that in his old life, he would have been, but he didn't care now. The entire front of his shirt was drenched in blood by the time he was done. I observed him from far away, my stomach rolling, trying to decide what to do if he headed for a human settlement.

But he didn't. He went right back to that bend in the river and lay down in the water. For a long while, I stood out of sight, waiting to see if he would move again. He didn't. So I lay back down, too. The water in the moonlight turned scarlet for a few minutes, then washed it all away.

Every single night after that, he went hunting. Sometimes, he didn't catch anything, but he wandered the deer trails and lion trails nonetheless, eyes searching, sucking in deep breaths of the chill night air to smell for his prey. I learned his patterns, his methods, and the way he tracked footprints. I learned to predict whether or not he would be successful in each hunt. And I watched, as if from a distance, as we both became more and more wild.

His hair became untamed right away, making him look like some sort of mountain cat. His clothes got dirty and tore into rags. The blood finally stained his shirt, and didn't wash off of his throat and fingers. He began to carry himself differently: he bent when he walked, and moved swiftly and silently.

I was less aware of the changes coming over me, but I felt how they were affecting me. Gradually, it became so I spent more time as a wolf than as a human, and the only time I _was _human was when I ate. I refused to eat anything raw, especially when there was a hamburger joint four miles away. I spent time with my family and pack very, very rarely, and never in wolf form. Nobody asked questions about my constant absence. They figured I was coping. But I wasn't. I was immersing myself in the animal.

Initially, I was revolted by Cullen's hunting. Now, I thrilled at it, and raced as fast as he did after the startled animals. Brambles got in my fur, and dirt in my paws. I reacted as a wolf would to any sound or disturbance—just as he reacted as a vampire, rather than a human.

We were both creatures of the night, untamed and primal and silent. I knew he knew I was there. How could he not, with that sense of smell? But he never looked at me, never addressed me, never spoke. In the back of my mind, I wondered how long this could go on. But for nearly a month and a half, I refused to answer that question. This was my sanctuary, and Edward was my focus.

Until, one day, as I lay on the opposite bank nursing a small cut on my left paw, Edward sat up. I watched him with an unblinking gaze. He looked around. His eyes had become a bright topaz, brilliant in the sun, and utterly inhuman. His expression was blank. Savage. Cold.

Inwardly, in some part of me that was still human, I frowned. I didn't like that look. Something about it was wrong…dangerous…

And then he looked at me. Just met my eyes, as if he had known where I was every moment of every past day. And his expression did not change. It was like that time I had stared a cougar in the face.

In that moment, it was as if I had been held under water and was suddenly yanked to the surface. The person named Leah woke up, and looked clearly through the wolf eyes once more. I sucked in a breath and got to my feet, my heartbeat pounding against my ribs.

Edward had lost himself. If he was stirring in the daytime, that meant he was about to surrender the last foothold he had on the civilized part of him. If he left that stream and ventured out in the sun, I had no idea where he would go or what he would do. I clenched my teeth.

I wasn't going to kill him. He hadn't hurt any people. But neither was I going to let him fly of the handle anywhere near my tribe.

Sadness and coldness settled into my bones. It was time to face the music.

I had to talk to him again.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Yes, this is a short chapter. Sorry, but that's how it's got to be. Thanks for the great reviews, and keep them coming! I really, really need them if I'm going to have the steam to keep going! Enjoy!_

_VVVVVVVVVVVV_

THREE

_With that, she picked up the frog and threw it against the wall_

_With all her might._

_The frog fell to the ground, dead. But immediately it changed_

_And in its place stood a handsome youth._

"_Fair maiden," he said, "you have freed me from the body of a frog_

_By death._

_In this life to which you have released me I must go now_

_To a faraway kingdom and there be wed to the troll princess_

_Who first enchanted me."_

_The maiden heard this and realized what she had done._

"_Then I will follow you and be your bride."_

"_If only you could," said the youth. "But this kingdom is_

_East of the sun and west of the moon_

_And you would never find your way."_

LEAH

This was ridiculously dangerous—approaching Cullen while in human form, especially when he was more wild and blood-thirsty than he normally would be. But it was also impossible to speak to him in wolf form. Duh. Besides, if anything happened, I could phase fast enough to protect myself. Hopefully.

I strode down the path that had worn down because of my frequent passage, barefoot and in my shorts and tank top. The pine needles rustled beneath my feet. I wasn't trying to hide my approach. In fact, I was trying to broadcast it. The last thing I wanted was to startle him and have him flip out on me.

I came to my customary bank and halted. The stones were cold beneath my feet. Cullen sat there on the other side, only his legs in the rushing water now. He stared at his hands, which had crusted blood beneath the fingernails. I swallowed, then took a breath.

"Cullen. Hey. Cullen."

He didn't respond. It was as if he hadn't heard me.

"Hey," I said louder, and clapped my hands. The sound echoed against the rocks. "Hey, over here."

Groggily, he lifted his head and glanced dully at me. Then he looked back at his hands.

"What's the plan, here?" I demanded. "Are you just going to sit in the water all day and then kill things at night for the rest of your life? If so, I've got better things to do then follow you around all the time." I bit back the voice in my head that reminded me I was lying. But he didn't need to know that.

He frowned, and tilted his head.

"I don't want to."

I looked at him.

"You don't want to what?"

His face hardened.

"Leave me alone."

I blinked, then folded my arms.

"Sorry, but that's not an option. Not until you tell me what's going on."

He said nothing. I sighed.

"Listen, if you were acting as normal as a blood sucker can possibly act, I might trust you enough to tell you to just get off our land. But you're not. Look at yourself. What's wrong with you?"

"I can't hear," he murmured.

"What do you mean, you can't hear?" I asked. "You answered me when I—"

"I can't hear your mind," he snapped, closing his eyes. "Your thoughts, your ideas, it's…I've gone blind."

"Ha," I snorted. "Welcome to the rest of the world."

He glared at me for a moment. It irritated me. I splashed forward into the creek.

"I need to know that you're coherent enough to understand that if you're going to keep doing this whole freak-of-nature act, you need to take it off this land," I said. "Or snap out of it, either one."

"You say that like it's so simple," he murmured.

"It is simple," I said, my heart growing dark. "It's a one-step process."

He made a noise in his throat, like a smirk.

"You don't understand. There's no way you could."

My mouth fell open. And then my face flamed.

"Oh? Oh, I don't? Really?" My hands closed into fists and my teeth clenched. "How dare you? You think that you're the first person to go through something like this? You think you're the only one to lose someone you love because of stuff you can't control?" Tears stung my eyes and a lump rose in my throat. I screamed through it. "How conceited are you, you creep? Suck it _up_, Cullen, and get out of this stream."

He didn't move. I growled. It rippled through my chest and I stomped forward.

"Do it. Get out of the water." I reached down and grabbed the shoulder of his shirt.

I knew, mid motion, that I shouldn't have done that. But it was too late.

He moved so fast I couldn't track it. He leaped up and struck me in the chest with his forearm. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck.

I flew backward and slammed onto my back in the creek. Ice water swallowed me. And then I thrashed, my limbs and nose lengthened, and I rose up out of the water as a steaming, hot-blooded wolf.

I let loose a savage snarl that rumbled my entire body. Edward turned to me, and lifted his chin, still knee-deep in water. My vision turned scarlet. I lowered my head.

"_I said," _I growled inside. "_Get out of the stream."_

I rushed at him, water crashing around my feet. He bent and threw his hands out, catching my shoulders. I bowled him over.

He fell down into the water. I crushed him against the bottom. I spun around, plunged my face under the surface, bit his arm and flung him out of the stream.

His back slammed into the rock wall of the canyon. I pulled my lips back, showed all my teeth and gave a heaving snarl. Cullen sank down to the ground and his head fell back against the rock wall. My tongue rippled and lolled. My ears flattened against my scull.

I was going to kill him. I was going to kill him right here.

I charged out of the water, straight at him.

He met my eyes. He looked at my teeth. He smiled.

I skidded to a halt. Wet sand flew. He waited.

Inside the wolf, the girl named Leah curled up and hugged her knees against herself.

_"No…" _I began to cry, heartbreak choking me. _"No, no…no…_"

I couldn't kill him. He had forced my humanity straight to the surface—and he was looking right into my eyes, as placid and beautiful as a Da Vinci painting.

I snapped out a broken bark, turned and ran—ran as hard as I could, away from that leech, and away from the expression in his eyes that felt like I was looking into a mirror.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the huge, long delay! I had to go write a novel. :P But I am back now, and this is a long chapter! Please, please review! I really need them for encouragement, to keep going! The quote at the end is by Abraham Cowley. Thanks so much! Enjoy!_

_VVVVVVVVVVV_

FOUR

"_Great Fish of the Sea," she said, "do you know of a kingdom_

_East of the sun and west of the moon_

_And do you know of a youth who is to marry_

_The troll princess there?"_

"_I know what is in your blood and in the blood of the youth,_

_And I know that your blood yearns to flow as one._

_But this kingdom does not lie_

_Within the blood of salt and water in which I live._

_All I know of this kingdom is that it lies east of the sun and west of the moon,_

_And if you reach it you will not find a welcome within."_

VVV

EDWARD

I remember Leah throwing me back against the canyon wall. For those few moments, my mind had been clear, and I had hoped she would kill me.

But she didn't. Perhaps she had thought about it. But then she turned and left me, and after that, my reality returned to a blur.

Day melted into night, and night into day, over and over again, just as it had before. The only difference was that I could not smell Leah nearby. That was fine. I usually enjoyed the taste of wolf, and I absently decided that I didn't want to kill her on accident.

Every day, I sat in that stream, or laid down in it, on my face. It turned me completely cold, and sent my mind down into a black, numb haze. And in the night, I ran through the woods, killing and eating, satisfying every slight pang of bloodlust I felt. All was the same. Dreadful, wild monotony.

Until the night I heard the screaming.

It was midnight, during a full moon. I was bent over a new kill—a badger that had ripped my shirt apart and gotten blood all over me before he gave up—when a distant noise brought my head around.

It stirred an old memory—once, perhaps fifty years ago, I had been at a friend's home, and his bloodhound had gotten its ear slammed in a door. That dog had let out the most piercing, woeful, pained howl I had ever heard, over and over, until my friend had leaped up and freed the poor thing.

That was what rang through the woods right then—haunting and chilling. Only worse—as if the dog's ear was being cut off instead.

And then the sound changed, mutated, rose in pitch. And then it became the wailing, desperate screams of a woman.

In that moment, it was as if someone had struck the outside of my ice prison with an iron hammer. The man named Edward woke up, and looked clearly through the vampire's eyes. I sucked in a breath and got to my feet, tasting the air, sensing the direction of the scream. It was difficult, with badger blood everywhere, but finally I caught it. Clearing my mind and my throat, I leaped toward the sound, and broke into my fastest run.

VVVVV

LEAH

I was going to die. I knew it—I felt it as my right wolf paw tried to heal but the rusty, iron teeth of the bear trap kept chewing straight through my skin and muscle, sending blood gushing.

I screamed—the howls tore from my throat. I cried for my brothers—I cried for Sam. Over and over, I called out to him with my mind, begging him to come find me, to save me before I bled out…

I thrashed against the trap. The chain that held it to a tree clanked. The trap's jaws clenched tighter, biting into my bone.

My vision flickered. Perhaps, if I phased back into a human, my hand would be small enough to slip out of this thing…

Fighting not to throw up, I began the transformation. Agony swept through me, but I made the transition smoothly—though I think I screamed the whole time.

It was only when I was completely human again that my shocked brain realized that the trap had just closed on my human arm, and had snapped the bones.

"Oh, God!" I cried, in the most fervent prayer I had ever uttered as I collapsed onto my side, tears streaming down my face. Waves of cold washed over me, for now I wore nothing except the sarong wrap I had tied around my neck before I phased, thinking I was so clever—I could easily tie it loosely around my neck as a human, phase so that it tightened like a collar around my wolf neck, and then when I phased back, take it off and tie it around me like a wrap-around dress.

But since it was tied around my neck, it barely covered my shoulders, and was too thin to warm me. A great shudder ran through my body. Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Maybe it was because I'd lost a gallon of blood.

"Somebody help me…" I whimpered, my brow twisting, my eyes fluttering closed as I shivered uncontrollably. I couldn't feel my whole right arm. "Oh, God…please…"

A foot landed next to my face.

A figure wearing torn black pants, and a blood-stained white shirt knelt down beside me. His hands and face were pale as death, and his dark hair mussed, feral. His topaz eyes met mine for just a moment. And then he reached down, grabbed the trap in both hands and wrenched it open as if he was breaking a fortune cookie. I bit back a cry, hardly able to see through my hot tears and the unconsciousness that threatened to take me down.

He snapped the top jaw of the trap off with a crack, and tossed it. Then, with hands that moved faster than I could track, he snapped off a straight branch the length of my forearm, then whipped off his shirt. He carefully pulled my arm up and off of the jagged bottom jaw of the trap (which made me shriek), lay the branch against my shredded limb, then bound up my arm with his shirt so tightly I almost fainted. And in the same movement, he untied the sarong around my neck, urged me to sit up, then swept the long garment around me and tied it under my arm, so that it covered me.

"Edward," I mumbled, feeling as if all my muscles had turned to liquid.

He didn't answer. He just slid his arms underneath me and lifted me as if I weighed as much as a twig. He cradled me against him, his chest and arms hard and cold, but secure, and began to run. I pressed my ruined limb against my chest, heat pulsing through the center of my body, blood soaking Edward's shirt.

He ran smoothly, like a cat, and quicker than even I could run as a wolf. The woods blurred past us, and we started downhill. Then, before I realized where we were headed, Edward leaped off a bank and splashed into the freezing stream, hip deep.

My feet slapped the icy water and my arm tensed around his neck. But then he put me down.

I hissed through my teeth as I plunged up to my waist into water that stabbed like a million needles. My feet hit the slithering stones on the bottom. All my muscles seized up and I swooned sideways.

Edward took hold of my shoulders to steady me, then whipped his shirt off my arm and threw it to the bank. He discarded the branch as well, then grabbed my wounded, twisted arm with both hands.

"What are you—" I tried, my teeth chattering. And then I howled as, with one swift squeeze-and-pull, he set my bones.

The next moment, he pulled my arm down and submerged it. I started to jerk loose, but he would not let go. My fist tried to clench and my entire body began shuddering. Water entered my wound and swept the blood toward Edward, and then downstream. Still, he held on, keeping my bones in place with his fingers.

My heart hammered, and I could feel my body fighting to keep from going into shock. I swayed forward, my eyelids fluttering as I lost feeling in my legs. My forehead bumped against Edward's chest. He let go of my arm with his right hand and grasped my shoulder, holding me upright.

In a few minutes, my injured arm went numb, and less and less blood flowed into the river. My head began to clear as the pain faded, and I finally realized what he was doing: he was keeping it from swelling, so that my natural healing abilities could work faster. And as I watched by the light of the moon, the wound began to close. I saw the bones fuse together, and then the tendons rebuilt their bridges. After that, muscle sealed over them, and finally, the skin closed it all off, as if it had never been. Yay for being a werewolf. I swallowed hard.

"Okay," I said through a locked jaw and trembling lips. "Can I get out of the freezer now?"

He didn't answer, just reached down and picked me up again. Water poured off of both of us as he hauled me up and out of the stream and set me down on a smooth boulder in the crook of the canyon, away from any wind. I wrapped my soaking sarong around myself, still shivering, and nauseated. Edward left me, and entered the woods. For just a moment, I sat alone, which made me cold again. But within minutes, he returned, bearing an armload of dry wood.

He set it down in front of me, then arranged the sticks like a teepee. He then rubbed a stick on a piece of bark and tinder—more rapidly than any human could have—and within an instant, sparks flew, and a fire leaped up in front of me.

Waves of warmth washed over my icy frame. I scooted closer, sticking my feet and hands near to the flame. Edward sat down, still bare-chested but affected by neither heat nor cold, and watched me.

"Stupid trap," I babbled, edging even closer to the crackling flames. "What the heck was that doing there? It's illegal to use that kind. Must have been a really old one…"

Edward didn't say anything. He just remained motionless as my body heat began to rise back up to its "normal" temperature of over a hundred degrees. The fire dried my hair and sarong, and drove the chill from my bones.

I rubbed my smooth forearm, still amazed at how quickly I had healed. Amazed that, about an hour ago, I had thought I was going to die.

I glanced up at Edward, who just gazed back at me.

I was also stunned that my blood had been spilling out right in front of him, and the vampire hadn't even flinched.

I got to my feet, stretching my stiff shoulders, and wrapping the damp sarong tight around myself. My cheeks got hot as my sense of modesty finally returned.

"I'd…better get back. Seth will worry about me even more than usual."

Edward's brilliant eyes had never left me. He nodded once, and stood up. I blinked. But he didn't say anything. So I faced the stream, grimacing at the idea of having to walk through it again. The state I was in, I would probably slip and fall down. I started toward it—

And then gasped as I was once more lifted into the air. Edward picked me up so smoothly I didn't realize what was happening, and then he leaped right _over _the stream. He landed lightly on the other side, and in the same movement, set me down. I hadn't even gotten my feet wet.

I turned and stared at him. He just glanced at me, then back at the fire. I frowned, my mind racing. But still, he didn't say anything. And so, after hesitating a second, I turned and started down the path.

I had gone about forty steps when I realized he was behind me.

I went cold. My footsteps faltered.

He didn't make any noise, but I could feel him just five feet away. I turned and faced him. He just looked at me, then glanced back at the fire again. My throat tightened.

What was he doing? Surely he wouldn't pull me out of the trap, help heal me and warm me up only to tackle me in the dark woods and eat me.

Right?

I wanted to roll my eyes and say, _"Right. That would make no sense."_

But of course, he was a wild vampire. Which meant nothing was certain.

Maybe I showed something on my face. Because Edward looked down at the ground, the corner of his mouth lifted, and then he stepped forward. My arms tightened around myself…

But all he did was come up to stand next to me. I shivered once. He gazed at me a moment, then raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the path. I cleared my throat, braced myself, and started walking again.

And he walked beside me.

My brow furrowed so hard I gave myself a headache. As I walked, staring at the dirt, I couldn't figure out what Edward was doing, what he was thinking. But not once did he offer an explanation. He just kept stride with me, and we hiked down that path in the filtered moonlight, all the way to the border of my house's property.

Edward halted when the glow of my porch light was about two-hundred yards away. I spun toward him, wondering what he was doing now.

He just stood there, as if that was all the further he would go, and clasped his hands behind his back.

And then it finally hit me.

He had walked me home.

I swallowed hard, trying to process that—knowing that it would take all night to do so. I shifted my weight on the dewy grass, feeling like I should say something.

"Um…" I tried. "Goodnight."

He just looked at me. I cleared my throat, and turned toward my house. My fingertips grazed my healed right arm, and I stopped. I turned back, and met his eyes.

"Oh, and…" I swallowed again. "Thank you."

He offered a ghost of a smile, and inclined his head.

"My pleasure."

I blinked. But before I could say anything else, he had turned, and disappeared back into the forest.

I watched him go, listening to his footsteps, until I could hear nothing. Then I headed to my house, decision in my steps.

Tomorrow, this a few things were going to change.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

EDWARD

I sat in the shade of a large boulder, several feet away from the stream. It was deep shade, for the sun was high, and sparkled off the surface of the water. The remains of the fire from last night sat off to my right, still smoldering.

I frowned at the gurgling, bubbling liquid as I sat on the cool rocks. Today, the deep, penetrating cold that stream offered didn't seem quite as inviting as it had before. But I knew I could talk myself into it given a few more minutes…

I smelled her before a twig snapped beneath her foot. Wet dog. I lifted my head to the wolf path in front of me. I reached out with my mind to search for the newcomer…

Nothing. I had to wait until I saw her to be certain.

Sure enough, Leah strolled toward me, in her human form. The sunlight through the branches cast dappled shadows on her copper skin and pitch-black hair. She was carrying a small woven basket, she only wore shorts and a blue tank top, and her bare feet were fairly quiet, for a human. She looked up at me, ducked under a low branch, and stopped right across the way from me.

"Hi," she said, her solemn black eyes focused on my face, her brow slightly furrowed. "You're not in the water today."

I thought this was fairly obvious, so I didn't answer. She watched me for another moment, then tossed her head the direction she had come.

"Come on."

I lifted an eyebrow. She sighed.

"It's not bad, okay?" She beckoned with her free hand. For several moments, I just sat there, my bones still feeling like lead. But Leah did not budge.

"Listen," she said, an edge to her voice. "I've been babysitting you in this neck of the woods for I don't know how long now. I'm sick of this spot. I want to get up higher into the mountains, but I can't do that and leave _you _sitting here, free to do who-knows-what. So get up."

I still did not move. Neither did she. Finally, I sighed and gave up.

I dragged myself to my feet. After bracing myself for just an instant, I hopped over the stream and landed not three feet from her. She jumped back, giving me a stern look. She didn't like it when I did things like that. I would have to do more. Irritating werewolves was something I would like to make into a habit, even if I couldn't irritate the one I really wanted to. Perhaps it would transfer through the pack mentality…

"Cullen." Leah snapped her fingers in front of my face. I blinked.

"Don't space out on me," she growled. "Pay attention. Come on."

She turned and walked away from me. I glanced back toward the fire and my wadded-up shirt, then followed her.

For a long while, she kept to a trail that I knew—excellent rabbit and fox could be found to either side more often than not. But then she left the main path to step onto a very narrow, winding one. I gritted my teeth in impatience. I was not used to moving at this glacial pace. I wanted to _run _through these woods—but of course, I did not know where she was taking me.

I breathed deep as we walked beneath the flickering shade, smelling the warm wind for any signs of her pack. I caught nothing except Leah's unpleasant scent, and my mind still sought in vain, like echoes hammering against cell walls.

Up and up we climbed, until I felt a chill in the air, and the path became rocky. Leah walked as if she was strolling down main street, her feet ever sure. Until at last we clambered up a rocky formation and met the full sun.

I blinked, squeezed my eyes shut, then cautiously opened them again. Leah kept walking, striding out onto a broad, sun-flooded grassy cliff overlooking a spectacular green valley, over-arched by a radiant blue sky. I stayed in the shadow of the nearest pine, watching Leah.

She paused, looking out over the valley, her hair ruffled by the wind. Then she twisted and lifted an eyebrow at me.

"Get out here."

I stayed where I was. She sighed and set down her basket.

"Look, I _know_ you won't melt in the sun." She plopped down on the grass, facing away from me, and leaned back, bracing her hands on the ground. "Besides," she muttered. "Having you stand behind me staring at me creeps me out."

I glanced at my feet, almost smiling. But I did not have the will to fight her, or even say anything. So I stepped out, the light and heat washing over me, my head bowed, my hands in the pockets of my ruined jeans. I had to close one eye and squint the other—my own skin reflected the sun right up into my vision. It was irritating.

I sank down onto the soft grass five feet from Leah. She was already scrutinizing me with that critical, penetrating look of hers.

"What predatory advantage does that give you?" she asked. I looked up at her, questioning. She gestured broadly to my chest.

"That. That whole pale…_sparkling _thing." She pulled the basket toward herself. "Camouflage in snow?"

I heard the scorn in her voice. I decided to answer it with condescension.

"Perhaps it is meant to be a handicap," I murmured, thinly veiling the knife in my tone. "Otherwise, none of our prey would ever stand a chance."

She met my eyes. But I did not find the reaction in her gaze that I expected. I had anticipated disapproval, maybe fear. But what she gave me, just for an instant, was completely unreadable—like surprise, then sympathy, mixed with disconcertion. I swallowed, and glanced over the tops of the distant trees.

We did not speak. And in the silence of the wood, I tried not to remember. I tried not to think of the time I had taken Bella to a place very like this one, to show her what I looked like in the sun. I tried not to remember the exact rhythm of her heartbeat, the sound of her careful breathing, the feel of her warmth against me…

"I came here first with Sam."

I came back to the present, and lifted my eyes to Leah. She had spoken as if thinking aloud, her brow furrowed, her eyes distant. I did not answer, but I listened.

"It's been a special place for our people for a long time. There's a recent tradition of taking the person you love up here on Christmas Eve to watch the sun rise. But for longer than that, people have come up here to look at the stars and tell old stories, since the sky is always so clear," Leah murmured. "Sam brought me, one Christmas Eve. We stood and kept each other warm and talked about the old stories—and then we saw the most spectacular sunrise." Her face had softened as she spoke, but then her gaze sharpened. "Jacob asked me about this spot. I showed it to him. He says he's planning to bring Bella this year."

I felt a sharp stab in my gut—but I couldn't dwell on it, because Leah had picked up a stone and flung it out into the abyss with more than necessary force. I frowned at her. She glanced at me, and saw my expression.

"What?" she demanded. "I've always thought of this as Sam and my spot." Her voice lowered to a mutter. "I can't help it if I don't really want to share." Then she smirked. "But what's the point, right? It's already ruined. He's imprinted, and I've dragged a freaking _vampire _up here." She shook her head, laughed bitterly, and tossed another rock with less vigor. I just kept gazing at her. I didn't know what she was talking about.

She glanced at me once, then did a double take.

"What are you looking at?"

"Imprinted?" I repeated.

Leah shifted, turning from me, her face stony. But when she spoke, her voice was unsteady.

"Yeah, it's…Well, werewolves do it when they've found their 'soul mate.'" She rolled her eyes. She watched her hands as she rubbed her thumbs together. "Sam and I dated for years, and then, after he had started phasing, he uh...met my cousin, Emily. Just looked at her once. And…" She pressed her lips together and held out her hands, palms up. "The rest is history."

I hesitated.

"Love at first sight?" I guessed, still trying to understand.

"Ha," she barked. "If you want to call it that." She raised an eyebrow and pulled up a handful of grass. "Personally, I don't know how you can love somebody you don't know. But that's just me."

I swallowed, like I was ingesting poison. But that's what it felt like. Every word of hers was so filled with venom and gall that I couldn't digest it all at once. I was trying, though—until her poison spilled into my core.

"It's your fault, you know."

I looked at her, and frowned. She nodded, staring right back at me.

"It's because of vampires that we phase. If you and your little coven weren't around, Sam and I might be married right now."

"This was the best place for us," I countered. "The sun hardly ever shines, so we can—"

"Don't even say anything," she waved me off and turned back to the view. I glanced down and pulled up a piece of grass, then ran it through my fingers.

"Did you just bring me up here to insult me?"

"What, can't you handle it?" she shot back, giving me a razor look. I shrugged.

"I was just thinking that, if that's your purpose, you might do it with a little more wit."

She just glared at me.

"I worked for a political magazine during the '30's," I added. "Anybody can make faces and throw rocks on a playground. If you really want something to cut into a person, you need to have a little bit of irony."

"You want irony?" she bristled. "I find it _ironic_ that Bella Swan thinks that the attraction she felt for you was actual love, when I know it's just your predatory magnetism. If you weren't a vampire, she wouldn't have given you a second glance."

I stood up. I felt nothing—only cold.

"Here is another irony," I said. "For some reason, you have it in your little girl head that, no matter how ugly or harsh or wicked you are, Sam could still love a witch like you." Only I didn't say witch. And I reveled in the pain flaring behind her eyes for a moment before I turned and swept back down the path, into the shadows, back toward the cold stream.

But I didn't feel better after wounding her. I felt small, childish. Hollow. I slowed and bowed my head. Something resonated at the back of my mind—like a victrola in another room, or the wind moaning over a hole in the ceiling of a cave.

My ability had not returned. I could not hear words or see pictures. But I knew was that the "sound" came from Leah. And I knew the sense it gave me.

It was like I'd kicked her in the gut after she'd been shot.

I stopped. I looked back over my shoulder at her back.

She sat there, head low, motionless except for the wind softly tossing the edge of her hair. I heard how clenched her breaths were, felt how her muscles tensed. And as I stood there, completely still, and just _listened_…

I heard something. Something I had never tried to hear before.

Her heart.

I was prepared for the power of it. All Quileutes had ringing heartbeats. Jacob Black's was thunderous, steady, constant, irritatingly-deafening. But Leah's…

Hers carried the same strength, resonance. But each time her heart pumped, it winced. Because a deep tangle rested inside her chest, causing pain at the edge of her arteries. And her pulse throbbed to the edges of her ribs like labored breathing. Like dull thuds. Like poison fed into her extremities by IV.

I blinked, and faced her again, realizing fully what it was that I heard. It was a physical, painful withdrawal, as from a drug, in reaction to the sudden removal of an essential object of emotional attachment.

In layman's terms, it is called a broken heart.

I hung my head, then stepped back out there, into the sun, without making a sound. I doubt she knew I was there. I listened more—listened to the beat of her pulse, marveling at how powerful, yet how shattered it sounded. It was a mess. Just a mess. A torn, twisted, broken mess.

I stepped forward again, this time letting my footsteps be heard. I knelt down on the grass, then lay on my back, my head towards the cliff. I glanced over at her—ran my eyes across her stoic face. I took a breath, then let it out, and gazed up into the crystal sky.

"_A mighty pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;_" I quoted, my voice barely

above a whisper._ "But of all pains, the greatest pain, It is to love, but love in vain."_

She did not answer. I did not expect her to. But her hands unclenched, and she swallowed, and a bit of the ache around the edges softened. It was still an ugly mess to listen to.

I closed my eyes, berating myself. I should not criticize. After all, if my heart was still human, it would sound just the same.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm so grateful to those who reviewed! Please let me know if you're still liking it! I need to hear it! Thanks so much, and enjoy!_

VVVVVVVVVVV

FIVE

"_Father Forest," she said, "do you know of a kingdom_

_East of the sun and west of the moon_

_And do you know of a youth who is to marry_

_The troll princess there?"_

"_I know what is in your body and in the body of the youth,_

_And I know that your bodies call to each other._

_But this kingdom does not lie within the body _

_Of earth and stone that I know._

_All I know of this kingdom_

_Is that it lies east of the sun and west of the moon,_

_And if you reach it you will not find a welcome within."_

LEAH

I hated Edward. _Hated _him. Sure, I had hated him before because he was a vampire—but now I hated him as a person, as well. Especially since he was keeping me awake at night.

Not literally. But I lay awake in my bed, staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom, replaying every word he had said to me on that cliff, flinching and turning onto my side, then my back, then my other side, each time I came to The Sentence.

The one about Sam never loving a wicked witch like me.

Only he hadn't said witch, of course. He should have. Maybe that would have taken some of the sting out of it. But he had used the "b" word. At first, I had just been obscenely insulted, shocked. But then I realized that Edward hadn't meant it _that _way.

He was old. I had no idea _how _old, but probably old enough to be Bella Swan's great grandfather, I was sure. And in the old days, the "b" word wasn't used as an insult. It just meant a female dog.

Which is what I was.

And therein lay all my problems. He knew that.

I grabbed my pillow and threw it across the room. It thudded against the door of my closet. I fell back onto my mattress with a huff and gritted my teeth.

I was a dog. I thought like an animal, I hunted like an animal—I was ruthless and blunt and savage as the creature I became. The wolf was all of me, now. The wolf was how I survived. How dare he act so superior? What did he know about anything? He didn't have to be around people, act like everything was fine when actually _nothing _was fine at all. He didn't have a little brother to take care of, didn't have the responsibility of being a pack member—didn't have to worry about his mind being invaded and every thought betrayed. He didn't have to consider the possibility of never, ever having children—of his body being stopped, frozen, just the way it was, in an unnatural, unchanging state...

I rolled over. My mind grew quiet.

Maybe he did. The last bit, anyway. I had never heard of vampires having children. Sam and Billy and the others seemed to think it was impossible. For crying out loud, they didn't even have heartbeats. They weren't fully alive. Dead things can't reproduce.

Edward didn't age, either. Obviously. I had always thought a vampire would be proud of that fact. Getting to look young and gorgeous forever didn't have a downside, did it?

I bit my lip. Well—except, he couldn't make friends with anybody. If they knew him too long, they would realize he wasn't getting any older. He would have to leave them, telling them a lie in order to escape. Even if he didn't want to.

I slapped a hand to my forehead.

"What are you doing?" I asked myself frankly. "Feeling _sorry _for him?"

_He _is_ the one sitting out on a hard rock somewhere, half-naked, in the middle of the night; and _you're _the one inside with a full stomach and a place to stay, _My old, seared conscience managed to remind me through all its calluses.

"So what?" I muttered. "He deserves it, the creep."

_The creep who saved your life_.

"Gah!" I sat up, swung my legs over the side of my bed and grabbed my hair. I sighed, let go and braced my elbows on my knees. I closed my eyes, starting to get a headache.

_A mighty pain to love it is, _

_And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;_

_ But of all pains, the greatest pain,_

_It is to love, but love in vain._

What did he mean by that, anyway? I mean, I knew what he _meant—_I understood the poem. Understood it so well that it made me hurt from the center of my chest to the tips of my fingers...

And yet the sharp pain had dulled, as if, for just one moment, I wasn't entirely alone.

That was stupid. _He _didn't understand, of that I was sure. He had just been looking forward to biting Bella way too much. You know what they say about forbidden fruit...

I swallowed. That wasn't right, and I knew it. If nothing but bloodlust was bothering Edward, it would not really have been difficult to evade me and go straight for Bella. He would have her before anybody knew what had happened. Because I had not told the pack he had returned, and everybody else thought all the Cullens were gone. The pack's guard had lowered to almost a careless level. It would be easy.

And yet, somehow, I knew Edward would not do that. Which is why I was lying here in bed, mulling over multiple meanings of his words rather than picking my fangs with his bones.

Maybe he _had _loved Bella, in some sort of sideways, freakish way—the only way he was capable of, being what he was.

Maybe he _still_ loved her.

I got up. I snatched my sarong up from the floor, turned, opened my window, and gazed up at the white full moon. I paused, listening, and verified that Seth was not stirring. I climbed out of my window, slipped down into the bushes by the house. I stripped off my pajamas, threw them back up onto my bed, and tied the sarong loosely around my neck. Then I shook my whole body, like a wet dog, and phased into my wolf.

Power surged through me—power and alertness. My drowsiness and headache were gone. I sucked in a deep breath of air, absorbed the thousands of scents, then leaped over my bushes and raced into the forest.

VVVVVVVVV

I went straight to Edward. I slowed to a halt on my side of the river bank. But as soon as I arrived, I wondered what had possessed me. Hadn't I just established that I hated the man?

But it was habit.

No. It was addiction.

I was addicted to the stimulation his presence provided; the snark, the ability to let loose with my emotions if I wanted, because I wanted to hurt someone, something, and he was an easy target—yet he put up a fight. He was a challenge.

That's what I told myself.

I glanced around, took a breath, and discovered that he was on the other side, as usual. I ducked behind a tree, phased back, and tied the sarong securely around myself. Then I stepped out and looked for him.

I found him in that little niche where he had built the fire the night I had almost lost my arm. He sat, still bare-chested, knees drawn up, elbows resting atop them. He gazed up at the brilliant moon, and talked to himself.

His voice, low and musical—almost hypnotic—carried over the gurgle of the stream, and made me stop where I stood.

"_A hundred months have passed, Lorena  
Since last I held that hand in mine  
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena  
Though mine beat faster far than thine  
A hundred months...'twas flowery May  
When up the hilly slope we climbed  
To watch the dying of the day  
And hear the distant church bells chime."_

"What was that about a pulse?" I said.

Edward's head came around, and his gaze found me like lightning to a rod. For a moment, his eyes blazed—and then the embers behind his expression died. He did not say anything.

I stepped forward and stood on the cold rocks of my side of the bank, and folded my arms.

"What are you doing?"

"What am I supposed to be doing?" he asked, not looking at me.

"You usually hunt at night," I reminded him. He shrugged.

"Didn't feel like going alone."

I frowned.

"You've been hunting alone for a long time."

"No," he shook his head. "You're usually with me."

I opened my mouth to shoot back some sort of reply, then stopped. The edge of Edward's mouth curled. He still didn't look at me.

"I find it interesting that this is where _I _live, and I'm just sitting here relaxing, and _you _come in the middle of the night dressed in nothing but a sheet and ask what _I _am doing."

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself and blushed.

"I didn't think a bloodless undead man would give a flip about what I was wearing."

"Ha," he snorted, his smirk growing. "I'd have to be quite a bit more dead—and buried ten feet under—before I wouldn't notice that a beautiful woman is wearing nothing but a sheet."

Everything halted. My brain, my breath, everything.

"Wait…" I choked. "What?"

Edward cleared his throat and shifted

"All this rustic living has stripped me of my manners," he muttered. He got up, hopped over a few stones and picked up several large piece of wood and a handful of kindling. As I watched, bemused, he built a fire again, and zipped it to life, moving faster than I could track. He stood back from it, then looked at me.

"Please come in."

I did not move. He took a step toward me and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you going to make me lift you over the stream again—"

"No, no," I said hurriedly. Was it possible for a person to start sweating from blushing too hard? I stepped into the stream, gritting my teeth against its icy current, and shuffled forward through the slithering stones. I actually _would _need the fire when I got to the other side.

Edward held out his hand for me on the other side. I ignored it, and clambered out on my own. Then I went straight to the fire, got close and sat down on the hard earth, water dripping off me. Edward came back and sat opposite me, staring into the flames. His skin gave off a dull luster in this light, like burnished gold. It was weirder than the snowy diamonds look.

"So…what _are _you doing?" Edward asked. I shrugged one shoulder.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Ah," he nodded. "Perhaps we should start a club."

"You already have a club," I retorted. "It's a different kind of club. Mine is the I-can't-sleep-because-I-have-to-worry-about-a-blood-sucking-vampire-in-the-woods club. Yours is the I-opted-to-forego-sleeping-to-BECOME-a-blood-sucking-vampire club."

"I didn't opt to become a vampire," he shot back, his gaze striking mine again. "I was dying of fever. Carlisle promised my mother that he would do anythingto keep me alive. So here I am." He tossed a stick into the fire. "And I wish he had let me die."

I scowled at him.

"You are a world-class sulker."

"So are you," he answered. For a long while, we were silent, watching the dancing flames. Then Edward took a breath.

"You're not sleeping because you're not tired enough."

"What?"

"You're not sleeping because—"

"I heard you," I said. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't run yesterday," Edward answered. "You just sat in the sun. If you make yourself tired, even if you're upset about something, you're bound to fall asleep."

"What, are you a doctor or something?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes," Edward nodded. "I graduated from Harvard in 1920, then from Columbia University in 1973." He cocked his head and glanced down. "I was thinking of becoming a traitor and applying to Yale after graduating from Forks, but…I think that option's off the table for the moment."

I gaped at him. Had he told that kind of stuff to Bella? I doubted it—it would probably freak her out. It freaked _me _out. But it sure shut me up.

I leaned forward and drew a circle in the sand with my finger, feeling the heat of the nearby flame on the back of my hand.

"I am not just going to run aimlessly through these woods," I stated flatly. "And I'm _not _going back to the pack to work useless patrol so you can go off and do whatever you want."

"Ah, so you need a purpose?" he said.

"Ha," I barked. "A _purpose_. Wouldn't that be nice for once."

"Okay, I'll give you a purpose," Edward leaned forward, and his eyes caught a wild light. "You can hunt me."

I blinked and sat up.

"Huh?"

He gave a delicate sneer.

"What? Afraid?"

"No," I snarled. "But why would I want to hunt you?"

He shrugged.

"Why not? It would give you a tactical advantage in the future. I know for a fact that your pack just blunders in and counts on brute force to win the fight. That's a good way to get really hurt—and it isn't necessary. If you ever come up against an actual vampire threat, you can use what you learn from me." He looked at me sideways. "You might end up being the top dog."

"It's called the Alpha," I growled.

"Whatever," he shook his head.

"I couldn't be the alpha," I said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? Is there some rule that girls can't?"

"Probably," I muttered. "But that's not the reason."

"Why, then?"

"Because I'm not going to be doing this forever," I snapped. "We can stop phasing, you know. And as soon as we're sure there's no more vampires to deal with, I'll quit."

"Well, then, this would help you to that end, wouldn't it?" Edward countered. "Come tomorrow morning and we'll start."

"Morning?" I frowned. "Aren't you more dangerous at night?"

"Yes," he gave me a strange look. "And…why would I start you out at Vampire Hunting 401 when you need to be taking Vampire Hunting 101?"

I glared at him, but he got up and gazed out at the woods. I sighed.

"Fine," I said. "But what am I supposed to do if I catch you?"

"There's no point in discussing that," Edward replied. He met my eyes, and they glinted. "Because you never will. Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

VVV

I walked back to my house in my human form, the moonlight filtering down between the trees. I felt kind of dizzy, punchy, and didn't want to risk the wolf. My feet rustled through the leaves on the path, and I wandered with my head low, arms folded.

My brain was a muddle. None of the razor-sharp, penetrating emotions and thoughts that had shot through my mind earlier even sank in. Not even The Sentence.

Instead, _another_ sentence kept running over and over through my head.

Edward had called me something I had never heard in my life.

He said I was a beautiful woman.

EDWARD

"_We loved each other then, Lorena  
More than we ever dared to tell  
And what we might have been, Lorena  
Had but our loving prospered well  
But then, 'tis past, the years have gone  
I'll not call up their shadowy forms  
I'll say to them, 'Lost years, sleep on  
Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms.'"_

I sat on the bank of the stream near the embers of the dying fire, watching the morning light begin in the east. My shirt still lay off to my left, wadded up and bloody. My fingernails were still stained red, and I knew I had blood crusted in various places, such as my neck, and behind my ears. And all of a sudden, that bothered me.

I got up. I pulled off my shoes—what was left of them—and stripped. I hopped down into the stream, bent and dug up a fistful of sand from the bottom. I scrubbed that sand against my fingers for I don't know how long—a few minutes of that and normal human fingers would have been raw. But I kept scrubbing until there was no trace of old blood there. Then I started on my throat and the back of my neck, and then my hair. I scrubbed the sand into my head, and rinsed it all out, then did it again. And then I turned to my clothes.

I scrubbed them and beat them against rocks until they were ragged, yes, but clean. I donned them, then sat in the full sunlight. By the time Leah arrived, dressed in her sarong again and giving me her customary wary look, I was dry. I met her eyes and nodded, anticipating this in spite of myself.

"You came. Good. Let's get started."


	6. Chapter 6

_Lovely reviewers, you always make my day, and you encourage me more than you know. Please let me know what you think, and enjoy! (The song in this section is "Piano Man" by Billy Joel. It's all over youtube, and you really MUST listen to it to complete your enjoyment of this section. Please, please do that. You may also recognize a few lines from __Twilight,__ and one or two from __Eclipse. __Oh, and in case you're curious, the word "shucks," entered the slang vernacular in 1910.)_

VVVVVVVVVVVVV

SIX

"_How will I ever find this kingdom?" she thought._

_Since her desire was sincere, the Moon heard her and said,_

"_If you travel to the great mountain of ice,_

_There you will find a cave._

_You will see many horrible creatures frozen in the mountain,_

_But they cannot hurt you._

_Enter the cave, and you will find in it a chamber of fire._

_In the fire lives the Salamander._

_He knows everything that is in the heart of the world._

_Perhaps the Salamander can help you."_

EDWARD

It rained three days out of every four. The sun rarely showed its face, even when it didn't rain. The weather was dreary, mundane, stoic, heavy, boring.

But I felt none of those.

Every day, Leah showed up at the creek bank at nine in the morning. Sometimes, we exchanged short greetings. Other times, she arrived in wolf form, and I knew she was ready to begin right away. Each night, my anticipation for the next day grew.

Because even hunting did not challenge or thrill me like _this_.

I still could not hear Leah's thoughts. I had to rely on my senses alone to tell me where she was. It was a true guessing game, a battle of wills, a chess match. It was a fantastic test unlike any since my senior recital at Julliard.

Leah was nearly silent on those broad paws—swift, maneuverable, yet powerful enough to leap over streams, scale jagged boulders or barrel through thickets of wild roses. One or two breathless times, I raced just ahead of her—lengthening to full strides as I pelted down a path—hearing Leah galloping behind me, sucking in breaths like a jet engine. Branches slapped me, rain pounded me, mud slipped beneath my feet. It was terrifying. I loved it.

For weeks, I evaded her, using every vampire technique I had seen used, and every one of my own. I even scaled trees, hid in caves, or under the water. But Leah always found me.

At first, her efficiency surprised me, and almost got me caught. After that, I was far too cautious, and I frustrated her. I winced as I watched from a tree as she just stopped in the middle of a path, soaking wet, and let out a brief, but savage, snarling tantrum. I shifted, just a centimeter. Her head jerked up, and she saw me. She bared her teeth. I leaped out of that tree to another, slid down it like a fireman's pole and broke into a run. She was right behind me.

With each day, the challenge grew. Both of us were quick studies, and learned each other's skills and foibles. Therefore, it became harder and harder to trick each other. And it also became more and more amusing.

In the early days, I took to hiding in trees. That worked, until she scaled a cliff behind me without my knowledge and almost bit off my arm. So, in the later days, when Leah temporarily lost my sight and scent, I would slip beneath the ferns, stilling my breath and lying like a dead man, watching.

One such day, I got ahead of her, leaped over a stream, zigzagged in a confusing pattern, hopped over a fallen log and slid underneath an obliging fern. I went quiet, keeping all of my body hidden except my eyes. Slow mist fell. Water dripped off the leaves onto my head.

I spread my fingers out flat on the ground. I listened.

I felt the ground move—a human would have noticed nothing. But each step of her wide paws softly shook the ground beneath my hands. She was coming closer.

I heard her breathing first—steady, even. Then her heart. It was most definitely _her_ heart: beating in that old, jagged, broken manner. But the ache was subdued, replaced by intense focus.

I closed my eyes. The familiar rhythm of her footsteps came nearer. I could tell how tired she was by her gait—and I knew she was impatient, a trifle unguarded, and had _no _idea I was only five feet away.

Her thick, wet paws came into view, making deep prints in the mud. Her trot slowed, and then she halted not a foot from me. I heard her suck in a deep breath, then let it out in a huff. It shook the air. I bit my lip, trying not to snicker.

She took another breath. I attended to her heart—its beat did not accelerate. I did not doubt she sensed me, but she did not have a clue I was so close.

Finally, I could not resist.

I snaked my hand out from beneath the fern and grabbed her ankle.

She shot up into the air. I leaped to my feet, bursting up through the ferns. Leah landed ten feet away, her hackles raised. Her wide yellow eyes landed on me and she let out a shriek of a howl at me—like a small dog startled by a stranger in a living room.

I crowed in laughter—totally shocked—then she lunged at me.

"Shuuuuucks!" I hissed, whirling around and careening over the fallen log. Leah pursued me, barking. _Barking_.

She yipped and bayed, catching up to me easily and almost prancing beside me. I ran as hard as I could, but it was _very _slick. She made a high leap, like a rabbit dog springing over high grass, and clipped her teeth together right in my ear. I slipped. Yes, I _slipped_.

As I crashed to my knees and then to my hands, I seemed to recall falling down once in 1951—

Then, Leah was on my back. She crushed me into the mud. Her paws pinned my shoulders. Then, she bent her huge muzzle and began chewing on the back of my head with short, rapid bites, like I had fleas.

"Oh, get _off_," I groaned, pushing against her, flipping over and shoving her giant, wet, furry weight away from me. She hopped back and sat down. I sat up and swiped the mud out of my face. She canted her head, her tongue lolled and she showed her brilliant white teeth—and I had to shake my head to hide my smile. Now, _she _was laughing at _me._

VVVV

I kept my eyes closed, but the mid afternoon light played against my eyelids. I lay on my back beside the stream, listening to it gurgle, gritting my teeth in boredom.

Leah had not arrived today. I had waited for her, even headed halfway down the trail toward her house hoping to run into her, but to no avail.

The fact that I had started to rely on her irritated me. I had not contacted Carlisle, I had not gone into Forks once, I hadn't even gone to our house. I had not realized until this single, empty day that nothing in my life existed outside of Leah.

I sat up, opened my eyes and shook my head.

"You are losing your mind, Edward," I muttered.

"Yep, you must be. You're talking to yourself."

My head came up. There stood Leah on the other side of the bank, wearing jeans, a soft white tank-top, a necklace and shoes. She carried a bag slung over one shoulder. Her hair was brushed, and—was she wearing a little makeup? I stood up, frowning at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm tired of running through these woods like a savage," she sighed. "I want to go into town and eat. And I can't enjoy myself without you there."

I gave her a sideways look, smirking.

"What was that?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I mean that I can't enjoy myself while I'm worrying about what bloody deed you might be doing."

"I see," I nodded, still smirking. It was an old excuse of hers—one that obviously held no weight. But I would let her use it for a bit longer, while I tried to figure out _why _she used it.

"Here." She tossed me the bag. I caught it, curious, and pulled it open. I looked at her.

"Clothes."

"Very good, Edward," she said condescendingly.

"Why do I need these?" I asked. She raised her eyebrows.

"Have you looked at yourself lately?"

"Oh, sure. I obsess over my appearance," I snorted.

"I'm not taking you anyplace in the state you're in," she said. "I'm going to start back down the path. Catch up to me when you've changed."

I leaned down toward the bag and took a breath. I made a face.

"These stink."

Her eyes flashed.

"They do not—they're Seth's, and they're clean."

"They smell like your house. Like wet dogs."

"Have I ever told you what _you _smell like, Cullen?" she shot back. I blinked.

"No."

She took a step toward me.

"Musty cellars—the kind where a murderer keeps dead bodies—and rotten blood and rancid fox meat." She nodded once. "I think that's a bit worse than freaking _wet dog._"

I swallowed. She held my gaze in her sharp one for a moment, then turned and marched back up the path.

I pulled out the jeans, undershirt, blue collared shirt, shoes and other necessities out of the bag. I clenched my jaw. I would not be making any more comments about the way she smelled.

VVVVVVV

I caught up to her at the halfway point in the path. She was strolling, her hands in her pockets, the sunlight flickering through the leaves and onto her copper skin. She glanced back at me, then looked me over from head to foot.

"You clean up halfway decent," she allowed. I just smiled crookedly and put my own hands in my pockets.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"A little harbor town," she answered, gazing straight ahead. "There's a kind of a pub there that has good food. I'm hungry for ribs."

An old pang traveled through me. I so _missed _real food. So did Alice, I think. I had helped make that whole meal for Bella, and also her huge birthday cake. We couldn't help ourselves. We had known it was too much for Bella to eat alone, but we wanted to live vicariously through her. We wanted to remember the time when things like meat and potatoes tasted delicious, instead of like dirt. And taking animal blood rather than human blood was enough to slake our bloodlust, but there was still something lacking. I had not been satisfied after a meal for nearly a century.

I drew myself up as I walked, trying to drag my thoughts away from that gloom.

"How is your mother?"

"How do you think she is?" Leah shot back. But her heart had throbbed when she spoke, so I gentled my tone and watched her face.

"I meant, how is she, considering?"

Leah's eyes flickered. Her jaw tensed for a moment, and she shrugged.

"She's doing okay. She's a strong lady. And Billy and Charlie Swan and…and Sam are helping out."

"Good," I said. She nodded. We kept walking. I thought the conversation was over.

"But sometimes," she said, and her voice was quiet. "I hear her crying at night. Softly, you know? She never cries in front of Seth and me, but…She's got to let it out sometime, I guess." She swallowed. "Makes me feel like I can't cry in front of her. Like me and Seth have to be strong. So we don't."

I gazed at her, stunned. This was different from her angry tirade about Sam. This was her just opening, letting me see her for a moment. I didn't know what to say.

She picked up her pace, bringing us to a fork in the path.

"It's this way," she said, turned left, and I wordlessly followed her.

VVVVVVVVV

LEAH

I hadn't meant to spill my guts in front of him like that. It was like I was just listening to myself talk, babble like a ninny. But something about him seemed to pull it out of me. Vampire voodoo, I was sure. Next time I felt that urge, I was going to smack him.

We took a less-traveled path and left the forest, striding out onto a narrow, paved, two-lane road. Neither of us said anything for the rest of the walk. I guess neither of us felt the need to speak—we'd spent the last several weeks in each other's constant company without exchanging more than a dozen words a day. But it was comfortable. Well—as comfortable as a werewolf and a vampire can feel in each other's presence.

At last, I spotted the little town ahead of us, nestled between two hills and built up against a canal that led to the sea. I took a deep breath of salt air, so different from the air in the woods, and felt the breeze ruffle through my clothes. We traipsed down a hill, right in the center of the road, because the traffic was almost nonexistent.

Once we hit main street, I turned left and Edward followed. We hopped up on the sidewalk, and passed several other people out strolling, enjoying the evening. Music issued from the open doorways of the restaurants down the way. The buildings were short, quaint, with broad front windows that showed touristy merchandise or large menus. I swallowed at the proximity of the strangers, trying not to let my nervousness show. I berated myself for becoming so uncivilized. Who would have thought that, in the end, I would be afraid of _people?_

"There it is," I nodded. Edward lifted his head, and saw the same sign I did: a curly orange neon set of letters that read _Andy's Barbeque. _

"I don't suppose they have very rare steak here?"

I heard the sneer in Edward's voice, so I didn't answer him. I just stepped up the short stairs, pushed the door open and went inside.

I had to blink a few times before my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. It was an old building—almost as old as Edward, I imagined—and the floors, walls and ceilings were wood. Old-fashioned lamps hung from the ceiling. This was a long, narrow room filled with wooden chairs and tables, and off to the left was a bar, lit from behind. The numerous glasses and bottles of alcohol sparkled. Beside the bar sat a baby-grand piano, covered in a drape which was covered with dust. Several parties of people sat at the tables, and waiters bustled back and forth. The bartender busily made foaming drinks. It smelled like barbeque sauce and fried potatoes and other really good stuff that was really bad for you. I almost smiled.

A pretty blonde waitress bearing menus came up to us, glanced at me, then fixed on Edward. She gave him a beaming smile.

"Smoking or non?"

"Non," I said, staring at her.

"And how many?"

"Two," I growled. Wasn't that obvious? The waitress glanced at me, then returned her gaze to Edward.

"Booth or table?" she asked him. What was this, twenty questions? I finally turned to Edward, trying to see if he was winking at her or something. But he was looking at me, waiting.

"Booth," I said. Better a booth—fewer people would notice that Edward wasn't eating anything.

"Follow me," she instructed, giving him a cute look before turning and striding through the tables. I threw a "what the heck?" glance back at Edward, but he acted like he didn't notice, so I followed the blonde.

We turned a corner into a side room that only had two other parties in it. She led us to a booth that had high backs on the benches, and tied-back curtains that hung from the ceiling.

"Here you go," said the waitress, turning and addressing Edward once more. I stepped in front of her and slid into the booth. Edward slipped in across from me, flawlessly folding his hands on the table.

"Would you like anything to drink?" she asked Edward.

"May I have some water please?" he asked, as if he was ordering champagne.

"Me too," I said, glaring at Edward.

"Okay," the waitress said cheerfully, putting two menus on the table. "My name's Emma—I'll be right back."

"Thanks," Edward gave her a small smile. She left after a downright flirtatious glance at him. My eyes narrowed to slits.

"What was that about?"

He sighed, ran his hand through his hair and then rubbed his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered. He sat back and leaned his head against the back of the booth. Then he glanced around the room. "Nice place."

"Mm," I said, still glowering at him. "Friendly service."

His bright topaz eyes met mine. He arched an eyebrow.

"You picked the restaurant."

I sat back and folded my arms. In a few minutes, Emma came back, put the water down in front of me and then handed another glass to Edward. I eyed her. Had she put on lipstick since she was here before?

She pulled out a notepad and pencil, and addressed Edward.

"Are you ready to order?"

"I have already eaten, but the lady would like the pork ribs with fries and a side salad," he answered.

"Ranch dressing on the side," I inserted, realizing that to her, I was invisible. Emma only nodded as she wrote it down, then gave another sunny smile to Edward. "All right. I'll have that right out." And she swept out of the room. Edward followed her with his eyes.

"What?" I demanded.

"It's so strange," he murmured. "I've gotten used to not hearing your thoughts—but when I'm around so many people, and I _still _can't hear anything…"

"I don't know why that's so upsetting," I said. "You need _some _limitations in your life or you start thinking you're a god. Or other people will," I nodded toward our departed waitress. I cocked my head. "By the way, why did you order for me?"

He blinked.

"Oh, just…" He smiled reflexively. "Sometimes I'm old-fashioned on accident. Sorry."

I picked up my water and took a drink.

"How's Seth doing?" Edward asked. My gut tightened. Was he trying to ruin my appetite?

"He's doing okay," I managed. "Hangs out a lot with Jake and Bella."

Edward's head dipped.

"Hey, you asked," I pointed out.

"Yes, I did." His smile was crooked. I reached over and twirled my napkin-wrapped silverware.

"Jake is good for Seth. Always has been—but especially now. Jacob's mom died, you know. He…He understands." I took a deep breath, trying to loosen my chest. Edward was watching me again, as if he could see right through me. I didn't like it. So I decided to turn it around.

"Bella looks good."

I saw him flinch—just a little—but he didn't look away from me.

"She does?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Saw her the other day. She, Charlie and Jacob brought casserole over for us and we had dinner. She actually has _color _in her face. Go figure. And Jacob said something—gosh, I can't even remember what it was—but she laughed so hard she almost gagged on her milk."

I could see Edward squirming, even though he hardly moved, like I was pressing a thorn into the palm of his hand. I shortened the torture to a jab.

"You're jealous."

His eyes flashed to me.

"Of what?"

"Of Jacob."

"Ha," he scoffed, sitting back. "Jealous? Of that flea-bag?" He shook his head.

I leaned my elbows on the table and narrowed my eyes again.

"I can understand how that might seem ridiculous to you," I said. "Since you can hypnotize almost any girl with your vampire magic or whatever," I waved my fingers through the air. "But Jacob has _real _features about him that make him a lot more attractive."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Such as?"

I gazed back at him steadily.

"He's like sunshine on a cold day," I said. "His smile just lights up a room. He's a hard worker, has a sense of humor, he has a way of being there for you without making you feel like he's trying to control the situation. He's a good leader, too. Oh, and I forgot to mention the fact that he has a pulse."

Edward's brow twisted and he stared at the tabletop.

"Are you done?" he murmured.

I stopped, and swallowed. What was my problem, here? He had been polite, first asking about my mother and then my brother—and I was grinding him into little pieces. I took a breath.

"I'm just trying to say that Bella's happy, okay? Jake loves her—_really _loves her—and he's taking care of her. You don't need to call him a flea bag."

"I'll try to remember that," he whispered, still not looking at me. I studied him for a moment.

"You know what I don't get?"

"Many things, I'm sure," he smirked, though it was broken. I pressed on.

"Why, if you're so broken-hearted, you turn the charm on the waitress."

He looked at me. It was almost a glare.

"It's not something I'm doing on purpose."

"Bull," I retorted. "You mean you can sit there and tell me it's not another predatory advantage?"

Edward's mouth opened, but before he could reply, Emma returned with my plate of ribs and my side salad. I had to lean back so she could set them in front of me—though I swear she almost gave them to Edward—and gave him a warm look again.

"Let me know if you need anything."

She turned away, I pulled my napkin off of my silverware to start on my salad. I had eaten about half of it when I caught sight of Emma wiping off a perfectly clean table, and shooting Edward glances. I put down my fork and turned to her.

"Do you need something, Emma?" I snapped.

"Um, no," she blushed, and quickly left. I turned back to my food. Edward hid a smile with his hand.

"What?" I growled. "She's driving me crazy."

I finished my salad, then started in on my ribs. They tasted great. My mom was a good cook, but she rarely made this. I always came here to get them. Hm. I might re-think that if that moron Emma was going to be here every time.

Edward watched me eat. It unsettled me, but I told myself that he didn't have anything else to do—he didn't even drink his water. When at last I had finished the final rib, I licked the sauce off my fingers, then stood up.

"Where are you going?" Edward straightened.

"Washing up. Stay put."

I left him there without glancing back and headed to the bathroom. I washed, making sure I didn't have sauce on my mouth, dried, and went back to the booth.

He was gone.

I swore.

My heart hammered and my fists clenched. Where would he have gone? Had what I'd said about Bella pushed him back over the edge? What if he—

A middle piano chord sounded, and then some higher, whimsical notes, followed by another chord and some jazzy, playful progressions. And then the entire patronage of the pub cried out in recognition. I leaped out of the booth, swung around the corner into the larger room—

To see Edward seated at that old, dusty piano near the bar that had been covered with a tarp every time I had been here before. I stopped, staring. _He _had played those notes. And he looked as if he was about to play more.

"Wait, wait!" A bearded, rough-looking guy called from out in the audience, jumping up and digging in his jeans pocket. Edward looked up, surprised—

Until the guy pulled out a harmonica. And then a satisfied smile spread across Edward's face. And when the man stepped close to the piano, Edward gave him a nod.

And the man began to play, and Edward followed him as if they had been making music their whole lives. All the people applauded, for they all seemed to know the song. The beat was a pleasing, steady ¾ time, like a waltz. And it deepened and became richer, and then…

Edward started to sing.

And I stopped breathing.

"_It's nine o'clock on a Saturday_

_The regular crowd shuffles in_

_There's an old man sitting next to me_

_Making love to his tonic and gin."_

Edward's hands danced over the keys, and he lifted his angelic face toward the harmonica player as he soloed. Then Edward raised his voice—which was so beautiful and melancholy that it literally sent an ache through my whole chest.

"_He says, 'Son can you play me a memory?_

_I'm not really sure how it goes._

_But it's sad and it's sweet _

_And I knew it complete_

_When I wore a younger man's clothes._

_La, la, la di-dee-dah_

_La la di-dee-dah-dah-dum'"_

The music grew louder, steadier, and as he sang the chorus, all the audience grinned, as if he had cast a spell over them.

"_Sing us a song, you're the piano man!_

_Sing us a song tonight_

_Well we're all in the mood for a melody_

_And you've got us feeling alright."_

As the harmonica player swayed back and forth and whistled through his instrument, Edward tossed a look at the man behind the bar as he washed glasses, and nodded at him.

"_Now John at the bar is a friend of mine_

_He gets me my drinks for free."_

Edward winked. The audience laughed.

"_And he's quick with a joke,_

_Or to light up your smoke,_

_But there's someplace that he'd rather be."_

Edward's gaze grew distant, and sorrow entered his expression as he sang.

"_He says 'Bill, I believe this is killing me,'_

_As the smile ran away from his face_

'_Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star_

_If I could get out of this place.'_

_Oh, la, la, la di-dee-dah_

_La la di-dee-dah-dah-dum"_

The music softened, and he settled into another verse—grim and observant.

"_Now Paul is a real-estate novelist_

_Who never had time for a wife._

_And he's talking with Davy,_

_Who's still in the Navy,_

_And probably will be for life."_

The music swelled, and Edward cast his gaze over all of the patrons of the bar, and they tapped their shoes or drummed their fingers on the tables in time with his powerful playing. He looked at Emma, who stood captivated in the corner.

"_And the waitress is practicing politics_

_As the businessmen slowly get stoned._

_Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness_

_But it's better than drinking alone."_

Edward's hands flew over the keys, dancing and lingering, as if drawing the soul right out of the instrument. I had never seen such effortless playing, such perfect and driving rhythm. And I had never heard a voice that captivated me so much, nailing me to the floor and stealing my breath.

"_Sing us a song, you're the piano man!_

_Sing us a song tonight!_

_Well we're all in the mood for a melody_

_And you've got us feeling alright."_

The man playing the harmonica carried another solo, and Edward's hands calmed the piano, and the music quieted. He threw a half grin at the pub manager, who stood in another corner with folded arms, listening.

"_It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday_

_And the manager gives me a smile._

'_Cause he knows that it's me _

_They've been coming to see_

_To forget about life for a while."_

The music built to a poignant, gorgeous crescendo, and Edward's voice rang through the pub.

"_And the piano sounds like a carnival_

_And the microphone smells like a beer_

_And they sit at the bar_

_And put bread in my jar_

_And say "Man, what are _you _doin' here?"_

And now everyone was singing with him, loud and clear, as he drew the last chorus from that piano and sending it ringing through the rafters.

"_Sing us a song, you're the piano man!_

_Sing us a song tonight!_

_Well we're all in the mood for a melody_

_And you've got us feeling alright."_

The harmonica joined him one last time, then drew back as Edward finished the song alone with the piano, gentle, lovely and sad—and as he held out the last chord, the audience was silent a moment before bursting into wild cheers and clapping.

Edward turned, and inclined his head to the patrons. Then, he actually stuck his hand out to the harmonica player and shook his hand. The man was in too good of a mood to notice how cold Edward's hand was, I guessed, because he didn't do anything except exchange a few happy words. Then, Edward got up, trailed between the tables—a few people patted him on the back and cheered him—and came up to me, head lowered. He stopped just at my shoulder, very near me. I glanced up at him.

"I thought I told you to stay put," I muttered, trying to gather myself. He shrugged, then gave me a half smile.

"You know I wouldn't leave." He lifted his head and gazed back at the piano. "Where would I go?"

I studied his pale face for a moment—the expression of distant grief that marked his perfect features and bright eyes.

"That was pretty," I said. He looked at me. His eyes softened.

"Thank you."

VVVV

EDWARD

We strolled out of town in the fading light, side by side, both of us silent. Leah seemed to be thinking—whenever I glanced at her, her head was slightly bowed and her brow furrowed. She kicked a stone ahead of us. It bounced on the asphalt. However, we had left the town far behind us and had passed off the road onto the forest path before she spoke.

"Where did you learn to play like that?"

I took a deep breath, my hands in my pockets.

"My mother taught me. Then, later, after I…" I cleared my throat. "I got better at it. I went to Juilliard and graduated with a degree in piano performance."

I felt her stare at me a moment. Then she returned her attention to the path.

"What was your mother's name?"

The entirety of my chest softened, and I smiled a little.

"Elizabeth."

She paused.

"What about your father?"

"Edward."

"Wait…How does Dr. Cullen fit into the picture?" she asked.

"I took Carlisle's name after he turned me," I said. "My name was Edward Anthony Masen."

She was watching me again. I tried to mask the emotion I felt at speaking my old name, but I doubted it worked.

"Where did you live?" she wondered.

"Chicago."

"When were you born?"

"June 20th, 1901," I said, giving her a look. "Is this an interrogation?"

She shrugged.

"You know everything about me—my mom, dad, brother, ex—all that. I don't know anything about you." She glanced up at me. "'Know your enemy,' right?"

I gazed at her as we walked.

"Am I your enemy, Leah?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know," she murmured. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"About your charm being a predatory advantage."

I stopped. She did too, and faced me squarely. She waited.

"I'll admit that some aspects of me create…attraction of some kind," I said.

"For both sexes?"

"Um, no," I shook my head. "I mean, guys may be intrigued, or intimidated, but it's mostly girls—"

"Why?" she wanted to know. "Do vampires usually prey on the opposite sex?"

I frowned.

"I…don't know," I struggled. "I suppose…?"

"So you need a lure to pull them in," she decided. I shook my head again.

"Ha. No."

She frowned at me, studying my face.

"No?"

"No," I said scornfully. "I don't _need _a lure. I could chase down any human I wanted—anyone—and she couldn't fight me off. Not even if she had a gun."

"Then what's that charm for?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "So you can have fun playing with girls' hearts before you suck them dry? Kind of like a cat with a mouse?"

Rage flared up inside me.

"No," I gritted. "I don't do that."

"Sure you don't," she rolled her eyes. "What was up with that waitress, then?"

"Leah—"

"It was like I was invisible," she cut me off. "Or didn't you notice?"

"It wasn't a purposeful—"

"I think you enjoy it," she jabbed. "Using some otherworldly power to get blind, unthinking affection from pretty girls like some kind of snake-charmer or hypnotist or—"

"This is what I am!" I thundered, shocking her back. "I do not try, and I cannot keep it from happening, any more than you can keep from breathing. I'm the world's most dangerous predator. Everything about me invites you in. My voice, my face, even my smell. It's hardwired into my DNA." I paced toward her. She retreated, wide-eyed. I lowered my voice to a hiss.

"I am _designed_ to kill."

Her back hit the tree. Her eyes flew to mine. I stood inches from her, looming over her. But I did not touch her. Instead, I let a growl rumble through my chest.

I was tired of her feeling free to twist and manipulate my feelings any which way that she chose. Anger welled up in my chest at her flippancy—I choked on indignant fury as it rose in my chest. I was mighty, and dangerous, and untamed, and she needed to know it.

So I let it go.

Power radiated from me. It flooded over her, filled the clearing, thickened the air and made her heart race like a rabbit's. I was never sure what _it _was—I just knew that ever since my vampire's life had begun, I spent most of my time restraining it. But now I wanted her to actually _see _the grim creature before her. I _wanted _her to be afraid.

I towered there, dark and terrible, for just an instant, pinning her to the tree with my gaze. I leaned my face down toward hers, my eyes narrowed.

"Do you understand?"

I felt her shiver. Saw the awed glint in her eye. I shifted to put the lid back on.

She moved.

She was so fast I could not evade her. Her hands captured my neck. I braced for a fight.

And then her mouth crashed into mine.

Chills flashed down my spine and I sucked in a breath. She held me fast, and kissed me again, then again, her mouth moving wildly, powerfully against mine.

For just a moment, my scattered mind tried to catch up, to _back_ up. But then it got lost, and I started to drown in Leah's warmth.

I wrapped my arms around her, hard, and lifted her off the ground. She wound her arms around my neck and pulled me toward her in a vise grip. And I let her.

And then I kissed her back.

I leaned in, lowered her onto to her feet and slid my hands up to her shoulders. She slipped her arms around my chest as she hungrily accepted every kiss I gave her.

I took a deep breath. A shocking scent flooded me, overwhelmed my senses.

Pine. Rich pine, crackling in a fire—penetrating and potent. Leah's true scent—her heart scent. And I could not get enough. The scent, and her warmth, were intoxicating, and her strength was nothing but a relief. Against all reason, my lips were moving with hers in strange, confusing ways they had never moved before—because I didn't have to be careful with Leah, and she certainly wasn't being careful with me.

And then I heard it: her shattered heart hammering, practically screaming for an embrace, a tender caress, an understanding touch. It was the same, it was familiar—I just hadn't been able to translate it. It had been in every glance, every word, every move since the moment I met her. It's what she had been screaming all along.

And so I slowed. I softened my mouth. And I slid my hands up to her face, cradled it, and gave her a _real _kiss. Deep, steady, soft. She drank it like water after weeks in the desert. She needed it, ached for it, and I gently lingered, willing—wanting—to give her what she needed.

A light went on in the back of my mind. Our lips parted. I opened my eyes. She opened hers. We stared at each other.

And then we recoiled. Her hand flew to her throat. I did not have to breathe, but I was panting and couldn't stop. Leah's hands clenched into fists. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. Then, Leah took a breath.

"What. Was. _That_."

"I don't know," I muttered, my mind reeling.

"Did you do that on purpose?" she demanded.

"No," I answered quickly. "I mean, yes. I mean…" I searched her face, my brow tight. She shook her head, and then barked out a shaky laugh.

"Okay, Bella Swan is totally off the hook."

I blinked.

"What?"

She jabbed a finger at me.

"If you can do that to _me_—and I _hate _you—" she said. "You could probably get away with whatever you wanted with a girl who had a little crush on you."

I blinked again. My eyes burned and I swallowed. It was the closest to tears I ever got.

"Leah, it's not like that—" I tried.

"Save it, Cullen," she shot back, her voice even more unsteady. She took three steps backward. "Have a nice life."

She turned on her heel and marched through off the path and through the trees, toward her house.

My chest caved, and I fell back against a tree, swallowing hard again and closing my eyes against the twilight.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_All right, here it is! A quick update! ;) In return, I hope you will give me a nice little bundle of reviews. I would love it! Thanks, and enjoy!_

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_SEVEN _

"_Salamander," she asked, "do you know of a kingdom_

_East of the sun and west of the moon_

_And do you know of a youth who is to marry_

_The troll princess there?"_

"_I know what is in your heart and in the heart of the youth,_

_And I know your hearts are breaking._

_But this kingdom does not lie within the fiery heart_

_That I know._

_All I know of this kingdom is that it is_

_East of the sun and west of the moon,_

_And if you reach it you will not find a welcome within."_

LEAH

I kept my mind blank all through my steamy, soapy shower. I sudsed off my entire body with a thick lather, including my hair, and got that sick, bloody, rotten _vampire _smell off me.

Except it wasn't sick, or rotten.

It was like book pages in an old library on a rainy day. Like ginger tea and India ink and a low coal fire…

I turned my face right into the spray of water, sending my memories careening.

I got out, dried, dressed, and thumped into the living room wearing jeans and a fitted red sweater. I flopped down sideways on the couch next to Seth, who was watching TV.

"Hey," I said, looking at the screen.

"Hey," he answered. "Where have you been?"

I shrugged.

"Went to Andy's to get ribs."

He sat up straight, his bright eyes going wide.

"And you didn't take me?"

"Heck no," I pushed his knee with my bare foot. "You would have hogged them all."

He smacked my leg with the back of his hand.

"That is _not fair. _You're not allowed to do that again."

"I'll do whatever I want," I answered.

"Hey, honey." I felt a hand on the back of my head, then slip down onto my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I glanced up and back to see the tired face of my mom.

"Sure," I managed. "I'm fine."

"I've missed you around here," she said, coming around the couch to pick up Seth's jacket and sneakers from the floor. I glared at him.

"Why are you leaving your stuff around for Mom to pick up?"

"Sorry, Mom," Seth sprang up, and took the stuff from her, then hurried past me to put them in his room. Mom smiled at him—and I couldn't look at her. How could something like a smile look more pained than a sob?

She glanced at me, then picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

"The boys are coming over tonight."

My head came up.

"The boys?"

"Well, not all of them," she amended, easing down in a chair. "Jacob, Sam, Quil, and Paul I think. Bella will probably come too."

I glanced down and fiddled with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

"Not Emily?"

"No, I don't think so," Mom sighed. "Said she had some things to do."

I gritted my teeth.

"When will they be here?" I asked.

"Any minute."

The words had barely left her mouth before I heard the door swing open. I didn't even have to look—I knew it was Sam.

"Hi, Sue," he greeted my mom in his dark, friendly tone. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay, thank you, Sam."

I took a deep breath. It shook. I braced myself. I glanced up at the tall form beside me.

"Hi, Sam."

He looked down at me. His warm brown eyes met mine. He wore jeans and a loose red shirt. His gaze lingered on me a moment too long.

"Hi, Leah," he said, some aspects of his face softening. "Haven't seen you for a while. Where have you been?"

I shrugged one shoulder and let my attention slide back down to my sleeve.

"Oh, around. Seeing a different part of the country."

He paused.

"We've missed you on our runs."

I just nodded, then went still. I wanted him to touch me—just to put his hand on my shoulder for a second—but he didn't. Instead, he stepped up to my mom and gave her a hug.

"I hope you didn't fix any food," he rumbled. "You didn't, did you? Because we're taking care of—"

"Hey, Bells, let me get that."

I turned around to see Jacob through the screen door. He hopped up the porch steps and grabbed the squeaky door and pulled it open, so Bella could maneuver inside holding a crock pot. She glanced up as she crossed the threshold and gave Mom and Sam a brief smile.

"Hi, Sam. Hi, Mrs. Clearwater."

"Can I help you with that, honey?" Mom asked, stepping toward her.

"I think I've got it, actually," Bella bit her lip as she carried it over toward the counter. I sighed and leaned my head against the back of the couch. I understood my mom's concern—Bella was usually a klutz.

"Don't worry, I've got her covered," Jacob assured Mom, sending her a brilliant grin as he stepped inside.

"That's very reassuring," Sam said flatly. I smirked to myself.

Seth came back from his room at the sound of Jacob's voice, and joined him and Bella in the kitchen. Mom invited Sam to sit down, so he did, in my dad's recliner. Mom sat across from him, in her own chair. In a few minutes, Quil and Paul arrived, noisy as ever, and soon the house was filled with talking and laughing and the smell of some sort of beef stew. My attention drifted back and forth between the three conversations going on in the two rooms. For a while, I listened to Mom and Sam discussing a new storm drain that needed to go in on the side of our house. Then I listened to Quil, Paul and Seth arguing about the race they had run yesterday through the rain, and how the mud had affected their times, and they needed a rematch. Then I listened to Bella and Jacob as they got the food ready. Their conversation sounded even more domestic than Sam and my mom's—stuff about what they had and hadn't found at the grocery store, and a recipe that Bella might try for dinner the next day, and the fact that the carburetor on her truck needed to be looked at.

I felt people look at me. Some looked more often than others—like Sam, Bella and Jake. Most were curious glances, others bore a hint of uncertainty. But they really didn't talk to me. I guessed they didn't know what to say. And they had no idea that I would have _loved_ it if they all just said the same kind of thing Sam had: "Hey, Leah. Haven't seen you in a while. How are you?"

But they didn't.

They went about their business and their socializing without me, following an unfamiliar pattern. I had been absent from this circle for so long that I no longer knew its rhythms. But as I sat there, watching them, I wondered if I ever really had been a part of this pack. After all, they didn't like me. Thought I was a harpy, a bitter old hag. They thought Emily was just lovely and that Bella was like their own little puppy to take care of. And Sam…

My gaze fixed on him. I don't think he noticed. But for the millionth time, I just sat there, studying him, re-memorizing his strong features and the sound of his voice. Even when everybody got bowls of stew and came into the living room to crowd around on the floor and furniture and eat, I didn't stir from my place. Nobody asked if I wanted anything. Mom would have, but she was distracted by all the guests, and Sam's questions. I just sat there, listening to all the happy noise, contrasted with the bubble of silence around me.

I stood up. I maneuvered around Paul, who sat on the floor, and retreated to the empty kitchen, fits of shivers running all over my skin.

It was too much. After all that had just happened, everything I knew about myself had shaken and fallen apart. I was terrified, confused, unstable and broken, and nobody noticed. Worse, they didn't seem to care.

I leaned my hands on the cool counter, my back to the living room, and bowed my head. Nobody could see me from this angle. Maybe I could catch my breath if I was alone for a while…

I heard footsteps. Soft ones. For an instant, I thought—hoped—it was Sam. But then the intruder spoke.

"Hey, Leah."

It was Jacob.

I sucked in a breath, straightened and opened a cupboard. I pulled out a little coffee maker and pot and set them on the counter. Jacob edged closer till he stood beside me, about five feet away. I felt him watch me as I pulled down the can of coffee and pried open the lid. My hands shook. He stepped a little closer, trying to see my face.

"Is everything okay?"

I wanted to bark back at him that _yes, _everything was okay, and to leave me alone. But I tried, and couldn't. A lump rose in my throat and I knew that if I even started to say something, I would burst into tears. And that would be unbearable. Jacob and I had never gotten along—not because I didn't like him—but because I had always been so vocal about my _dis_like of Bella. But now he, of all people, had come to find me to see if I was all right. I had always been mean to his girl—I had no right to expect compassion from him. And yet here it was. So I just gulped, and spooned some coffee grounds into a filter with a hand that shook so bad I barely kept from spilling. Jacob came even closer, so I could feel his heat. I stuck the filter into the coffee maker and reached for the pot, but it was no use. I just held it there in both hands, staring at it, determined not to look at him.

"I want you to know," he said in a low voice. "We're all here for you, okay? I mean, if you need anything, or want us to fix anything, we'll do it, okay? _I'll _do it. Myself. Just give me a shout. Okay?"

I nodded hard, my vision blurring. He fell silent a moment, and rested his broad hands on the counter. Then he leaned over and bumped my shoulder with his.

"Hey," he muttered. "You need me to beat anybody up? Because I will, you know."

I tried to laugh. I wanted to. But the sound broke in half, I wilted and lay my head over on his shoulder. He softened against me and put his arm up around my shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, rubbing his thumb against my shoulder and resting his chin on the top of my head. "I'm sorry, Leah. Sorry we've left you all by yourself."

I couldn't answer. I was fighting my tears too hard—which was really difficult when he was so warm and felt so good to lean against. I almost broke right then—almost just gave way and told him everything, just because he was there and he was listening. But then some semblance of reason came back to my head and I remembered how much he hated Edward, how he wouldn't understand—

Someone else came into the kitchen, and stopped. Jacob lifted his head off mine and twisted to see him. The newcomer spoke.

"Leah?"

Sam.

I broke free of Jacob, swept around him and shoved through the door, not looking at Sam for even a moment. I burst out into the cool night air, feeling like I had a fever, and blinked to clear my eyes.

The door opened and slammed shut behind me. I kept walking.

"Lee-Lee?"

I jerked to a halt. I sucked in a short breath, then another. I shuddered. I heard Sam cautiously come up behind me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Why does everybody keep asking me that stupid question?" I roared, whirling around and swiping at my face. Sam just stood there in the light of the porch lamp, gazing at me earnestly.

"Because it's a good question," he answered, his tone low. "We've hardly seen you at all since your father died. Your mom's worried about you, Seth's worried about you—_I'm _worried about you."

I swallowed hard, feeling my resolve slipping through my fingers. He held my gaze, and I couldn't break it even if I wanted to.

"I know this has been really difficult for you lately," he said. "And I feel like we've failed you."

"Why?" I gritted. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" he countered. I couldn't answer. He sighed, then took a step closer to me.

"For some reason, you don't feel like you can come to us if you need help," he said. "Like we'll reject you, or won't listen, or won't want to."

I was already shaking my head.

"No matter what you say, Sam," I said. "You _don't _want to, you _won't _listen—and I've already _been _rejected." I turned to march into the forest. Sam caught my arm. And he pulled me back around, and straight into his chest.

I gasped, my heartbeat thundering, as he wrapped his arms hard around me and leaned his head down against the side of mine.

I fell apart. I threw my arms around his broad chest and buried my face in his shirt, letting tears roll down my face. I couldn't hold him tight enough, couldn't breathe him in deeply enough, couldn't get enough of his hammering heartbeat against my head.

He brought his wide hand up and stroked my hair. He didn't say anything, but I could feel it in his arms, in his touch, in his warmth—he still loved me. Somewhere, deep inside him, he did. No matter about his imprinting, no matter about this absurdity with werewolves and vampires. Sam Uley, the _man_, was still in love with me.

In that moment, desperation swelled up inside me, and I wanted to lift my head, take his face in my hands and kiss him—kiss him hard, with all the passion in my body. He might resist at first, but I knew him. I knew he would give in, I knew he would realize that his heart—his _real_ heart—still belonged to me. He just needed to be made to see—

"I love you, you know."

My heart stopped. His words had rumbled against me, so that I felt them down in my bones. I frowned, bewildered, my vision blurred with tears.

"What?" I choked, pulling back so I could look up into his face. He brought his hand up and wiped away my tears with his thumb.

"I love you," he repeated, as if that were obvious. "I always have."

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"_What?" _I stammered. "When did _that _happen?"

He frowned at me, but did not let me go.

"It's always been true. Just because I imprinted on Emily doesn't mean my feelings for you just disappeared."

"Wait, wait," I pulled out of his arms, putting my hands up as if to ward him off. I sucked in a deep breath, my head spinning. "If…If you love me, then…_why _are you marrying Emily?"

"Because I belong with her."

I gaped at him. Then I flooded with indignation.

"How can you belong with someone when you love someone else who loves you back?" I cried.

Sam blinked, and his brow tightened.

"We've been over this, Leah. Just because you love someone who loves you back doesn't mean you belong with her."

"Then what does it mean, _Sam_?" I demanded. "That you had no choice when it came to Emily? At all?"

"I didn't," he answered. "I imprinted on her—you know that. She's my soul mate, my other half. I couldn't live without her if I tried."

"No," I growled. "I don't care what anybody says—I don't believe that."

"It's true."

"No!" I shouted. "You think for just one _second _that if Jacob imprinted on someone else that he wouldn't fight tooth and nail to stay with Bella if he knew Bella still loved him?"

"Jacob hasn't imprinted on anybody and he won't—I don't think there's a need," Sam said, his voice quieter than mine. "It's clear that he and Bella already are soul-mates. They found each other without any help. They go everywhere together, they never fight, and they practically finish each other's sentences. You can see it in their eyes."

"The same could have been said about you and me once, Sam," I whispered. That stopped him. He shifted his weight, and swallowed.

"I wasn't trying to start an argument out here," he said, his voice very gentle. "I just wanted you to know, to make you feel better."

Tears spilled from my eyes and scalded down my cheeks.

"Feel…_Feel _better?" I choked. I threw up my hands. "Why on earth would that make me _feel _better, Sam? To know that you loved me—you _still _love me—but you've _decided _to marry someone else? That you didn't even _try _to fight this whole, stupid imprinting thing?" I jabbed a finger at him. "You think that since I've lost my dad and the pack hates me that you would make me _feel better_ by giving me yet another taste of what I can never, ever really have again? _No!" _My voice built to a roar. "You know what that is, Sam? You know what it's _always _been? It's _not fair_. It's. Not. Fair."

"Leah—"

"No!" I yelled, the word ripping through my chest. "No, I can't do this anymore. I can't put up with it. I won't let you drag me along behind you forever, pining over you, letting you hold me and tell me ridiculous things like you love me but not really."

"Lee-Lee—" he tried, panic in his eyes.

"_Sam!" _I wailed, all the bittersweet memories rising up inside me and filling my blood with poison. "I have _had it. _For the first time in my _life_, everything is perfectly clear, and there is finally only one thing on earth that I want from you." I took a deep breath, and felt the last remnants of my heart shatter into dust. "Leave. Me. Alone."

I turned and walked away from him.

"Leah, sweetheart—"

I fought him. I kept walking, kept striding, even though it felt like I was stepping on glass with my bare feet and needles were coursing around inside my lungs. I broke into a staggering run even as he called after me again. I passed the first trees, the first high shrubs, and the sight of the path before me blurred as raging tears began spilling down my face. I gasped—it tore me. I gasped again. My entire body swarmed with literal pain. My muscles shook and spasmed and my stomach turned. I kept going.

When I was about a quarter mile away from my house, my throat choked and I let out the first audible sob. Then I stopped, pressed my fists to my chest and screamed. I screamed with all my force, with every shred of breath in me. My shriek echoed against the trees, a ragged and torn howl that hurt my throat. I did it again, but as soon as that scream had dispelled an iota of pain, more swelled in to take its place, until I staggered forward, so dizzy with torment and blinded by tears that I could barely stand.

I stumbled forward, forcing myself to keep going, to get as much distance as possible between myself and Sam before he figured out what I was going to do.

I was going straight to that ice-cold stream and I was going to drown myself.

I did not have to pause once to get my bearings. Even half-crazed with pain, I knew this path like the back of my hand. I fell down twice. I scraped my hands and hit my head on a rock. Blood ran down my forehead. I kept going.

At last, I heard the gurgle of the water, saw the moonlight spilling down into the little clearing. I crashed forward, halted and stared at the water, realizing what I was about to do. My stomach clenched again, then twisted. I fell sideways and threw up into the ferns, my entire body feeling as if it was going to wrench in half. I stumbled, found my way to the stream and plunged in up to my knees.

I stared at the rushing surface of the water, feeling its frosty current bite my legs. I wanted more of that pain—wanted physical torture to overtake the agony inside me. I wanted to be distracted from it, and then I wanted to suck in the liquid and leave everything behind. I bent my knees, and let them collapse, taking my entire body face down into the river.

All the air knocked out of my lungs—it was _so _cold. I thrashed, and drew in a panicked breath. Water flooded my lungs. I thrashed again, fighting the primal urge to claw my way back to the surface. The water shoved and buffeted me. I struck a few rocks. Currents twirled me around, whirling and spinning, until I didn't know which way was up. My heart raced—screamed. My limbs grew heavy. Darkness crept over the edges of my mind. I stopped fighting. My eyes drifted closed…

Something grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me up and out. Water poured off of me. My head lolled back, my legs and arms hung limp, and could not feel anything. Something picked me up, and dragged me somewhere. Something solid came up beneath me—maybe rocks?—and I lay upon them. My eyes stayed closed. My heart slowed down. I heard it thud once, then pause. It thudded again. Then it stopped.

A powerful force pounded repeatedly against my diaphragm. My body heaved—but I was slipping down into blackness. Pushed again, and again. Water came up and out of my lungs and spilled out of my mouth. My heart gave another weak thud.

Something pinched my nose, and then lips closed over mine. Cold air flooded my mouth and forced its way down my throat and into my lungs. Then that _push, push, push _on my diaphragm again. Then the lips, and the cold, powerful air. _Push, push, push_…

"Come on, dearest," the words, as if coming down a long tunnel, barely registered. "Come on. You can't leave me here."

The cold lips pressed in once more. The air plunged down into my chest.

_Push, push, push—_

A surge, like an electric shock, shot through my body. I thrashed onto my side, coughed and gagged out a quart of water. Feeling thrilled back into my limbs, and I began shaking and trembling violently. I coughed and coughed, spitting up ice water and pulling in breath after desperate, ragged breath. I tried to sit up, but my arms spasmed and I scrabbled helplessly on the rocks. So other arms grabbed me and held me up instead.

"What were you _doing?" _The earnest cries came in my left ear. Strong arms wrapped all the way around me and pulled me in to a cool, solid chest. My coughing calmed, but my gasping went on, sending shooting pains down my throat.

The arms moved. Cool hands cradled my face and lifted my eyes to bright topaz ones, which were wide with fear. I could see his white visage and dark hair perfectly in the silver moonlight—every feature clear and brilliant. It was Edward.

"Leah!" he cried softly, searching my face, his brow twisting. He wiped the wet hair out of my face and leaned closer. "What were you thinking?"

"Sam," I shivered hoarsely through wet lips, my whirling thoughts making no sense as I tried to say them. "And my daddy, and…Nobody in the pack cares if I…except Jacob, and he…but then _Sam…_" I choked again, and hot tears ran down my cold face. Edward's expression broke.

"So you thought you'd _kill _yourself?"

I gulped, then gulped again, wrapping my arms around my chest.

"Seemed like a good idea," I muttered through my teeth as two more tears dripped down. He let out a long, shuddering breath and his forehead fell down to rest against mine. His hands firmly grasped my shoulders.

"A good idea to leave me here, all by myself?" he murmured. I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment," I breathed. I felt him shake his head, then he leaned in and wrapped his arms around me, ducking his head down to rest against the crook of my neck. My chest pressed against his, and my weak arms draped around his shoulders. He stroked the back of my head, and held me tight to him, and did not let go, even as we knelt there by the murmuring river, dripping water all over the bank, guarded only by the moon.

VVVVVVVVVVVVV

I lay there all night in Edward's arms on the bank of the stream. That night was a battle, a war, and every moment I felt I was about to lose.

Edward would not let me escape into that water—he was forcing me to fight my inner tormenters, to face them head on. So I clutched the front of his shirt with both hands, and he just held on to me and did not move. And I cried.

I cried for everything—each moment of anguish that I had held inside and buried over these past few years. I felt anew each heartache, each pang of jealousy, each raging moment of hatred. I cried for Sam and me, in those old, wonderful days. I cried for the senseless, bewildering breakup, and my cousin's betrayal of me. I cried for what could have been. Wracking sobs choked my whole body as the anguish of the early werewolf days washed through my heart—the days of my father's death, and funeral, and the emptiness of the house since he had gone. I wept for my mother, and her loneliness and fragile strength. And then the last, great struggle: I set my jaw, braced my body, and took the great, deep, all-consuming love I had for Sam and put it to death.

I sobbed myself ragged for hour after hour as, piece by piece, I let go of Emily, and Bella, and my dad, my wolf, and Sam—and held onto Edward with both hands.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_So, so sorry for the long delay! I went on vacation, and then I've been working extra hard on this LONG chapter to get it just right! There's a lot of music in this bit; one of the songs is called "Always a Woman to Me" by Billy Joel, and you MUST listen to it when it comes to that part, because it is just gorgeous. You can easily find that, and the others I mention, on youtube. Anyway, I would be simply delighted if you would all leave reviews for me, telling me what you think! Thank you, and enjoy!_

_VVVVVVVVVV_

EIGHT

"_Oh, North Wind," said the maiden, "do you know of a kingdom_

_That is east of the sun and west of the moon_

_And do you know of a youth who is to marry the troll princess there?"_

"_I know what is in your mind and in the mind of the youth._

_I know that your mind has one purpose, and his the same._

_I know what is in the mind of the earth and of the moon and of the sun._

_Yes, I know of this kingdom._

_It is farther than I have ever gone,_

_But I will take you there if you will be brave, for you will not find a welcome in that place."_

EDWARD

If I thought her heart was broken before, it was nothing compared to this. I lay there on the hard rocks, half on my side, with Leah wrapped up in my arms, listening to the most wrenching heartbeat I had ever heard. All night, she gasped, even wailed, into my chest, and I just kept her there, staring into space, feeling her heat throb against me. If I did not know better, I would have thought her body was overheating to fight off a deadly infection.

At around midnight, her breathing steadied, and her weary frame loosened. She took a deep breath, then another, and I glanced down to see her eyelids drift closed, and her forehead relax. And finally, I let _myself _relax.

I lay my head back on the cold ground, gazing up at the stars through the leaves. I swallowed hard, rubbing my thumb back and forth, back and forth, along Leah's shoulder blade.

I watched the constellations—my old friends—drift across the sky, until the haze of light began to rise in the east. I watched the night roll back, the black layers giving way to deep purple, then pink, then orange, until at last the sun broke over the top of the mountain, and filled this little clearing with hesitant, quiet, golden light. The birds started to sing—twitter and flit back and forth between the branches above our heads. I frowned. Leah's clothes and hair were still damp. Even though she slept, she would not feel rested. Not after a night like _that_.

Still, I would not wake her. I stayed perfectly still, so that her face could keep that soft peace she had fought so hard to gain. But as I stayed silent, my thoughts began to wander—I reflected on the fire and ice of the night before.

I had been hunting. Rushing through the whispering woods, chasing shadows, hearing the distant howl of real wolves, tasting blood on my tongue. It was the only thing that could appease the chaos in my heart.

I had kissed Leah. She had kissed me. And nothing—not one vague thought—of Bella had even entered my head. Not until the instant Leah spoke her name, and then guilt of the most potent and venomous kind had pumped through my hard veins. It had made me sick, made me wild—made me bewildered. I had lost myself, lost my honor, my will, my character. What kind of man was I, to profess my undying love for one woman and then turn around and kiss another with more passion than I knew I was capable of?

Worse, what inhuman power, what otherworldly domination had I radiated that had caused Leah to do what she had? Could it possibly be true what she said? Could Bella only have been drawn to me because of this power, rather than what she knew of me, as a man? She had professed that she loved me—but was it true? Had she _loved _me? Or had she _needed _me?

All this had been spinning through my head as I darted through the woods. Until I heard it.

A scream.

It was not like the scream before, when I had found Leah clenched in the jaws of the bear trap. This time it issued straight from the core of her heart—it was raw emotion, echoing brokenness—utterly human.

All thoughts of Bella and myself fled my mind. I had stopped mid-stride atop a mossy boulder, listened, and concentrated on the very distant sounds of Leah's passage. I was far away from her, higher up on the mountain near the clearing and the cliff. But I discounted the distance and broke into my quickest run, heedless of the noise I made.

From the rustling I picked up, Leah had seemed to be making for our stream. Why would she do that? She had told me to "have a nice life"—I had assumed that meant she never wished to see me again. What would force her back?

I had broken through shrubberies and rose bushes, pushing my speed, leaping over great rocks and crashing through the ferns. I lighted on a ledge on my side of the river, ten feet off the ground. My eyes darted through the darkness, searching the opposite shore.

Movement caught my attention. Leah, dressed in jeans and a red shirt, staggered forward, clutching her chest, and stared at the water. I had clenched my fists. I did not like the look in her eye…

"Leah?" I called warily. She did not hear me. She plunged up to her thighs into the water, then closed her eyes and fell forward. The water swallowed her.

"_Leah!" _

I had leaped off the ledge, thudded to the bank and raced forward. Cold, wide-eyed panic flooded me. What was she doing? What had been done to _her? _What heartless, callous monster had further tormented her to make her want to _kill _herself? I would kill _him_. If anything happened to her, I would wring his neck myself—

"Oh, God!" I had implored to the silent heavens as I dove forward into the frothing, icy water, clawing for her foot or shirt. I caught the back of her thin sweater, jerked her up and out of the water, and she lay limp in my arms.

_No, no, no…_

She felt like ice beneath my hands. I had laid her out on the cold, rocky bank, pressed my lips against hers and performed CPR over and over. My hands had shaken. That never happened—I was always as steady as a rock. But in that moment, water dripping off me as my hands pumped against her stomach, and as I forced air down her throat, I trembled and shook like a leaf. I had refused to think of what would happen if her heart did not start again, if she did not draw another breath. I railed against her pain, her despair, her surrender. I _made_ her fight, I _made_ her come back. With every push, every breath, I wrestled against the demons, both real and internal, that had pushed her over this edge. I hated them as destroyers and murderers, and I had refused to let them win.

She had survived the deepest part of the night. I had kept her in my arms and shielded her while she faced those same demons. I could not fight them for her, but I would not allow her to feel alone for an instant.

I gazed up at the blue sky, listening to the birds. My relief had dwindled, and the muscles in my back grew taut as my thoughts wandered into dark, mournful, dangerous lands—lands I had tried to lock and bar, but I had not yet found the key. These thoughts twisted in my stomach, causing pain at the back of my throat, making me close my eyes.

What kind of nights had Bella had, after I had left her in those woods long ago? What long hours of weeping, what empty moments, what stretching silence? What wordless, lightless battles had she fought, day after day? I glanced down at Leah's slightly furrowed brow as she slept. Who had been there for Bella the day _she_ had broken? Who had held her, and comforted her?

Who had pulled _her_ from the icy water where her mindless grief had driven her?

Who had shaken her, wrapped his arms around her, and demanded in a terrified voice to know what on earth she had been thinking—why she had tried to end herself when she was his lifeblood, his reason for getting up each morning?

Who had cursed the name of the one who put her there, who had thrown her down into darkness? Who had sworn to kill that person if ever given the chance, if it would spare him the terror of losing her?

My breathing hitched—I had not been aware that I had _started _breathing—but now it hurt me and I could not stop.

I knew who had been there for Bella in those moments. And with the perspective I had gained, with what I had seen, my emotion turned around, like a snake caught by the tail, and its fangs sank into me.

I hated _myself_.

I had wounded Bella the same way Sam had wounded Leah. And now I _heard_ that broken heart, beating next to my still one, and each time I listened I winced—it was like sticking my hand close to a white flame. A _living_ heart, one unused to age and dragging nights and loss and battle and endless following years was torn raw by abandonment and grief. I, on the other hand, had known loss before I lost Bella. My mother, father, grandparents, pets, friends, home, city, generation, had all slipped from me like sand in an hourglass. I wished it had not happened—I wished I had never known this life. I wished that my mother had let me die. Then, I would be with her and my father in heaven, and I would not have put Bella through hell. Jacob would have found Bella as a complete person, and loved her, and courted her sweetly, and she would have had a whole heart to give him, instead of fragments that he had to search for like diamonds tossed into a bed of thistles.

Leah moved her hand. Her fingertip grazed my breastbone. My head came around and I stared at her. I went still.

If I had died long ago, Carlisle, Esme, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett would still have eventually lived in Forks, Washington. The Quileute would still have begun to phase, and Harry Clearwater still would have died. Leah still would have withdrawn into the woods as a wolf to avoid coping with her grief, and would therefore still have separated herself from the pack. That seclusion would have brought the situation with Sam to the same head. She still would have staggered through the woods, and found her doomed way to either a cliff or a river.

And there would have been no one to pull her back.

Her eyes moved beneath soft lids. I resisted the urge to kiss them. The impulse startled me, then settled into sadness. My chill skin would wake her. I was cold, and hard, and could not give that kind of comfort. I moved my head and rested my chin atop her forehead, and did the only thing I could think of: I whispered an old lullaby my mother used to sing. I was surprised I remembered any of it.

"_Golden slumber kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await you when you rise. _

_Sleep,  
pretty darling,  
Do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby._

Cares you know not,  
Therefore sleep,  
While I o'er you watch do keep.  
Sleep,  
pretty darling,  
Do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby."

VVVVVVVV

LEAH

My eyes opened to light glimmering against them—morning light through swaying leaves. I ached all over, and my head hurt. I screwed my eyes shut again, then blinked over and over, trying to figure out where I was. Then I caught the sparkle of the river down by my feet, felt the rocks beneath my legs, hip and shoulder, heard the rustle of wind high above and the twitter of birds. A cool breeze blew through the little valley. And I was lying in someone's arms.

Our feet were bare—his were pale. My jeans were muddy, his were torn. My shirt was damp, his hung unbuttoned. My head rested on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around _my _shoulders, and my right hand pressed against the cold skin of his chest, just above his heart. A heart that was not beating.

My eyes flew to his face, which lay just inches from mine. And in that moment, the sun made its final shift to get past the leaves of the over-shading oak, and covered us with light. His skin lit up like gold, shimmering so that my eyes were dazzled. I froze, staring up at his angelic features, his long-lashed closed eyes, quiet mouth, elegant nose and dark eyebrows. His hair was mussed and he had mud smeared across his left cheek—and he was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

But his heart was not beating. He was not breathing. And his expression, though lovely, held soft tragedy around its edges. His splendor was that of an ancient portrait whose subject had died long ago; frozen, unchanging. Yes, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But he was also the saddest.

I moved my thumb. His eyes flew open. Brilliant topaz captured me. He said nothing. Then, his brow furrowed delicately, and his gaze asked me a question without words. I blushed, pulled away from him, and sat up. To answer would have shown way too much intimacy. And right now I felt like a vulnerable, flimsy, silly ninny who had just thrown a fit worthy of a spoiled little girl—and Edward had seen it all. Worse, he was _worried _about me.

I smoothed my hair with both hands, knowing that I had to look like a mess. Edward sat up, too, but he still didn't say anything. He just watched me for a moment, then drew his knees up and rested his elbows on them. My throat closed, and I gave up on my hair. I pulled my legs in and sat cross-legged, and messed with the sleeve of my wet, dirty sweater. I couldn't look at him. I cleared my throat.

"Were you asleep?" My voice sounded weak, my question lame. But Edward just shook his head.

"I can't sleep." He smirked. "Though not for lack of trying."

"You looked like you were," I muttered. He shrugged one shoulder, studying the river.

"I haven't felt inclined to sleep for decades." He paused. "But just this morning I did get closest to the edge of drowsy that I've been since…ever." He canted his head, still gazing out front. "Maybe it had something to do with the cold water, or the sun, or your body heat."

I swallowed.

"My…"

He glanced at me.

"The first few times I touched your bare skin, I felt like I was going to scald. But after a while, if I forced myself to just relax and _let _you touch me, that blistering feeling went away, and turned into a kind of deep warmth—especially when you had your hand right over my heart."

Okay, that was too much. I had been trying to avoid one giant elephant in the room only to blunder right into another one. Great. I wrapped my arms around myself. My thought trailed off, and I just sat there, awkward, silent. He was aware of the elephants too, apparently. But I didn't know what I was going to do about them. Finally, I let out a shaky sigh.

"I feel like crap."

He turned to me. I swiped a hand across my face, and realized I was dirty.

"I _look _like crap—I know I do," I mumbled. "And my head feels like it's going to blow off." I gritted my teeth. "Serves me right."

I glanced at Edward, saw his bright eyes fixed on me, then frowned.

"What?"

He blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me," I gestured in exasperation. "Like I'm some…some freak who's lost her mind and needs somebody to take care of her. I'm fine. I'm _fine_."

He did not move. His eyes narrowed.

"Are you?"

I met his eyes. Okay, so we _were _going to address the other elephant in the room.

"I was just upset," I managed. He raised his eyebrows.

"Clearly."

"It's no big deal—I just had to get it out of my system," I backpedaled, trying to force my way out of this subject. His eyes burned brighter.

"Leah, you don't have to be so defensive," he said. "I understand what you are going through—"

"Shut up!" I barked, hauling myself to my feet and backing up. "Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about—stop pretending that you do! You're nothing but a blood-sucking monster—you _can't _understand."

Edward stared at me, then got up and turned his back on me. He strode out further into the sun, his shoulders tight, and stopped.

My jaw closed as guilt sank down into my stomach like a stone. What kind of stupid thing had that been to say? He had lost the girl he loved and had exiled himself to the woods to live like an animal, trying to fight against his heartbreak. He couldn't control the decisions of the one he loved, and he certainly couldn't control _what_ he was. He could only cope as best he could, try to distract himself, and hold on by his fingertips to keep from tumbling down into the dark.

Just like me.

"Listen, Edward, I…" I stammered. He didn't move. I wrung my hands together, then stepped toward him. My feet crunched on the stones. The gurgle and rush of the river filled the silence. I stood just behind him, watching the set of his shoulders. Then I hung my head.

"I didn't mean that, okay?" I whispered. "Sometimes I say things before I think about them—it's a reflex, after hanging out with a bunch of dogs all the time." My levity felt weak, and faded. I swallowed hard, and took another step toward him. For a very long while, neither of us moved. I couldn't summon up any words to say that would actually come out—and so I clenched my teeth and leaned my forehead against his shoulder blade.

He shifted, just a little. I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. My lip trembled, and my eyes stung. "Thank you for pulling me out of the water."

Another long moment of quiet stretched out between us, and then I felt him take a breath.

"It's all right," he murmured. "And you're welcome."

VVVVVV

My mother wouldn't let me out of her sight for a week after that. I refused to start going on any runs with the pack—I had kept Edward a secret from them so far, and I wasn't about to open my mind to them now. I did not speak to Sam, and avoided him at all costs.

But somehow I felt like a huge weight had lifted off me. I helped my mom around the house without complaining about it, I pulled out cuter clothes to wear, and actually had a good time when Jacob and Bella came over one night for supper. I know—shocking.

It was like I had been holding my breath for months and had finally come up for air. I remembered what it was like to smile a little again, even to laugh once in a while. And Bella and Jacob's flirting and teasing and tickling didn't annoy me anymore. I thought it was sweet. And I just sat in the sunshine of my brother's smile whenever it beamed through the room—I had missed it so much.

And at night, I no longer felt the compulsive need to run wild through the woods. Instead, I slept. Deeply, without dreams. I was finally able to realize that this is what it felt like to let go. This is what it was to be free.

I knew it because I saw the same look reflected in Bella's eyes. Jacob had come into her life during the darkest part of it and pulled her up and out and into the sun again. Like freeing her from a bear trap, or yanking her from freezing black water…

I heard a song on the radio while I was cleaning the bathroom one day. It was called "Gravity." The lyrics made me stop and listen, and think. Most of the words were sad, and truthfully I forgot them later. But two phrases stuck out, and remained in my memory: "_You hold me without touch. You keep me without chains."_

I thought about those words the rest of the week—just pondered them when I was alone. I didn't let my thoughts form into any decisions or actions—I had a feeling that it was too deep, too vital to even be spoken aloud yet. And so I just waited, and thought, and watched, and learned to breathe again.

VVVVVVV

I awoke with a start in the middle of Friday night. My window hung open, and the breeze ruffled my curtain. I sat up, frowning, and rubbed my eyes.

I smelled it. Or rather, _him_. That same scent of old books and ink…

My heart beat faster, wondering if he was actually _in _my room—

When I noticed a small envelope sitting at the foot of my bed. I snatched it up, and read the address by the silver light of the moon.

_Miss Clearwater_

I tore it open, pulled out the card inside and gazed at it. The front bore a watermark of a coat of arms with a name beneath: Cullen. Swallowing, I lifted the top of the card to read the smooth, ink-written words within.

_Mr. Edward Cullen requests the pleasure_

_ of Miss Leah Clearwater's company at luncheon_

_ tomorrow, at noon_

_ at the Cullen house in Forks_

I read the lines over and over again, studying the elegant angles of the penmanship and the formal design of the words. Then my eyes darted to the window, and I gazed out at my lawn, to the edge of the shadowed trees. I saw nothing.

Slowly, I lay back on my pillow, the letter still in my hand. I admit that I did not sleep so well that night, and by morning I still had not decided whether or not I would go.

VVVVVVV

I couldn't believe I was going. I had mentally debated all through breakfast, I thought so hard when I straightened the house that Mom said my silence was deafening—and when I went to stand in front of my closet, it stopped my progress altogether. If I was going to ignore the invite and stay home, I would wear sweats and a t-shirt. But if I was going to go, I would want to wear something nicer…

I found myself pulling out some dark jeans and a dark blue, v-neck top, putting them on, then doing my hair and actually putting on makeup for the first time in forever. I even put on some small, sparkly earrings.

I was heading out the door at eleven, however, when Seth teased me about having a hot date. That sent me right back into the house and up to my room to pace back and forth, arguing with myself for half an hour. But then Seth left to go to some car thing with the guys, Mom went to the grocery store, and I was left alone.

"Suck it up," I had growled. "How is this any different from running through the forest with him every single day for months?"

Right now, though, as I stood in the driveway of the Cullen house, it felt _very _different. I had forced myself out my front door and into the car, and then back out of the car again once I arrived. But the sight of the house stopped me where I stood.

It was ultra-modern. Chic, angular, and almost looked like it was suspended in mid-air. The tall pines hugged it, and gardens surrounded it, and bright lights sparkled through the windows, because it was a cloudy day.

"Get over it, Leah," I gritted. "Did you expect a tower with a moat or something?"

I still stood there for five more minutes before I was able to make myself stride forward, up the walk, listening to the tap of my shoes and the jingle of my car keys. I hesitated again at the steps, then once more at in front of the door—which was actually like a side door. I could see straight through it, for it was all glass with a brown frame, and the walls on this side were glass, too. I peered inside to the room beyond. It looked like a sort of conservatory, with benches, a Chinese screen, houseplants, and a marble floor. Finally, I heaved a huge breath and pressed the doorbell.

It gave a hooty _ding-dong_, and I waited, trying not to fidget. Then, there was a flash of movement, and the door swung open. Edward stood there, wearing black dress pants and a black collared shirt and polished shoes. He was clean, his hair was combed, and his eyes were bright even in the dim daylight. The sight of him stopped me. A smile flicked across his face.

"You came."

I shrugged, mentally shook myself, and halfway smiled.

"I didn't have any other plans."

His smile grew, and he stepped aside and motioned me in. Biting my lip, I stepped over the threshold into the home of a vampire.

The house smelled clean, fresh, for being empty so long. Edward led me to a set of stairs, and I followed. On the left-hand white wall hung huge paintings and photographs—scenery, mostly. I marveled at the banister. It was clear, like glass, but thick.

"Who designed this house?" I asked, casting one more look around before we stepped through another door into an airy hallway. Edward glanced back at me, surprised.

"Emmett and Carlisle, actually," he answered, his voice echoing.

"And you leave it like this?" I raised my eyebrows. "All furnished?"

"We have several houses set up like this all over the world," Edward replied as we left the hall and entered the kitchen. "That way we can just walk in, and don't have to do anything but turn on the water."

"What if somebody breaks in and steals everything?" I asked. He gave me a bemused smile.

"Who cares? It's just stuff."

I blinked at that, but he was striding forward into the kitchen, which was all done in black marble, with a preparing island in the center, several sinks, and state-of-the-art wares. It was bright, too, for broad windows stood above the sinks, overlooking the woods. I paused on the threshold.

"Why do you need all this?" I asked. "The fancy oven and the toaster and the world-class coffee maker?"

Edward snatched a bowl of tossed salad and a glass of ice water off the island, then started walking out to the breakfast room.

"For when we have people for dinner."

My mouth fell open. He stopped mid-stride, closed his eyes and chuckled.

"I walked…_right _into that one, didn't I?" He opened his eyes and gave me a sheepish look. I snorted.

"Yeah, you kinda did."

I watched him smirk, pass me and set the salad and glass of water on the table out there. He zipped past me again, got some silverware and set them down beside the bowl. He pulled out the chair and lifted an expectant look to me. Deciding to just go with it, I stepped forward and sat down. He pushed me up to the table, then strode back to the kitchen.

"The soup is still heating up. I thought you could start on the salad in the meantime—do you want anything else? Bread, crackers?"

"No, thank you—um, dressing?" I remembered. I heard him pull open the fridge, then he came back into sight holding a bottle in each hand.

"I have Ranch or a vinaigrette." He glanced at one of them. "Personally, I have no idea what Ranch tastes like, since it wasn't invented in time for me to try it, but this kind of vinaigrette is from an old pizza place in Chicago that's still going, and it—"

"I'll have that," I decided. That seemed to please him, and he put the Ranch back, then brought the vinaigrette dressing to me. I poured it over my salad, then started eating, trying to quell my nerves, reminding myself that I _had _eaten in front of him before. I paused, chewing, and furrowed my brow.

"Mm. This _is _good."

"Is it?" he asked, sitting down across from me and leaning back. "I can barely remember."

"Must have made an impression," I commented. "I don't know if I'd be able to honestly recommend a salad dressing without tasting it for a hundred years. Very brave of you."

He laughed, and I stifled a smile. I ate for a bit longer, aware again that he was watching me. I glanced up at him, met his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," I chided. "Makes me nervous."

His expression turned to a mix of confusion and amusement.

"You know, you're a little hard to live with."

I almost choked on my water. I covered my mouth with my hand and laughed, then swallowed. He got up, and in a flash was back with a napkin. I took it from him and wiped my mouth, trying to stop from coughing or letting my eyes water. His eyes twinkled, which made me want to throw the napkin back at him, but he settled back down in his chair and I resisted.

"So…" he ventured. "Why did you come?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"A better question would be, why did you invite me?"

He shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.

"I came here three days ago to find Carlisle's contact information and give him a call." His gaze wandered off. "Then I caught sight of myself in a mirror and decided I was tired of living like a savage, so I stayed here, got cleaned up, put on some of my own clothes, settled in to enjoy the peace and quiet…" He met my eyes. "Then realized it was a little _too _quiet." He sighed. "So I argued with myself for a little while…" A smile quirked his mouth. "And then I went to the grocery store."

I had stopped eating, just to watch him, then held his gaze for a moment when he looked at me. The timer on the stove went off. He twitched, then got up and went back into the kitchen. I finished off my salad and took another drink. In a moment, he came back with a steaming bowl of red soup, and handed me a spoon.

"Thank you," I said, realizing it was the second time recently that I'd said that to him. I took a spoonful, blew on it, then tasted it. It was the most fantastic tomato basil I had ever had.

"_Wow_," I murmured, and glanced up in time to see his satisfied smirk before he sat down.

"So you're a chef too, huh?" I said. "Did you go to culinary school as well as medical school?"

"Oh, Leah!" he laughed. "If I could only tell you how many schools I've been to—what I've learned…" He waved it away. "But you'd think it was boring."

"Why would that be boring?" I frowned. He glanced at me. The levity fell from his face, and he looked at me intently.

"Really? You…You really want to know?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Go ahead. It'll take me a while to eat this soup anyway—it's still pretty hot."

"I'm sorry—"

"No, that's fine," I assured him. "Talk."

VVVVVV

And he did. I had never heard stories like these. In addition to what he had already told me, he said he had attended Julliard and Cambridge, was fluent in French, Russian, Romanian and Spanish. He laughed until he almost couldn't talk when he told me about the prank he and his friends played on one of his worst professors: they had led a cow all the way up the stairs and put it in this professor's office. For, Edward said, a cow will go _up _stairs, but it will not go _down. _He told me of the grave-robbing that he Carlisle sometimes had to perform in places like Siberia and Romania in the early days, because the laws had forbidden the cutting open of dead bodies for study. As a result, to this very day, graveyards still gave him the creeps.

He regaled me with tales of him and Carlisle wandering the foggy streets of London after dark, their collars turned up, their hats pulled down, working for detective agencies by night and taking university classes by day. He said they had brought down some of England's worst criminals, sometimes alone, sometimes with human help, and he swore up and down that Sherlock Holmes was a real man, if a little less brilliant than in the books.

After I prompted him, he told me that he and Carlisle had enlisted in the Navy and acted as medics during World War Two, in the Pacific. Edward had made friends with a Japanese girl—almost fallen in love with her—but she was killed in an attack by her own people. That had been the closest thing he had had to a girlfriend before Bella came along.

I watched him as he talked, as his velvet voice dipped and flowed, as he gestured with ease and elegance, as the years fell away from him and I felt like I was looking through a portal into living history. Boring? No. Not at all. I couldn't take my eyes off him.

I did manage to finish my soup—it filled me with warmth—but the movement of my spoon and my swallows were automatic. Again, I absently speculated whether or not he had told these things to Bella. I guessed not. In fact, I guessed that she might have been the one to imply that it was boring. What _had _they talked about, I wondered?

Finally, he sighed, and smiled to himself, gaining a self-conscious aspect.

"So…now that you're convinced that I'm a total Narcissist, since I've only talked about _myself _for the last…hour," he glanced down at his newly-acquired watch. He turned to me. "Did you like the soup?"

"It was very good," I declared. "Thank you."

He gave me a real smile this time, without sadness or sarcasm, and stood up.

"Good. I'm glad. Can I take your dishes?"

"Sure," I sat back, and he whisked them away.

"Coffee?" he called from the kitchen. I shrugged.

"That would be nice."

In a few minutes, he returned with a cappuccino in a white mug. I laughed and shook my head in disbelief. I didn't dare say it out loud, but Edward was incredible.

"While you taste that, I'm going to go to the other room and check on my poor piano." He started out of the room. "It's probably horribly out of tune…"

"Okay…" I leaned around to watch him go, frowning. Did he mean to make me curious? Because he made no sound. It was like he disappeared. I got up, cradling my coffee in both hands, and followed him as quietly as I could.

I wound through a few hallways, until I heard experimental notes, high and low, played out on what sounded like a grand piano. I found the source—a room with a wooden floor and blank walls, and a window. Edward sat at the piano, facing me, the instrument in the center of the room. I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe. He focused down on the keys, his brow furrowed. He rested his hands there for a moment, then began to play. Simple chords issued, resonated through the room like a hymn, soft and contemplative. He sang quietly, as if to himself, and I held my breath.

_"She can kill with a smile,_

_She can wound with her eyes._

_And she can ruin your faith with her casual lies._

_And she only reveals what she wants you to see._

_She hides like a child,_

_But she's always a woman to me."_

The simple chords bloomed into an accompaniment that was so breathtakingly beautiful I could not move. The treble was like a harp, but the bass was a steady pulse, like the beat of a heart.

"_She can lead you to love,_

_She can take you or leave you_

_She can ask for the truth_

_But she'll never believe_

_And she'll take what you give her_

_As long as it's free_

_She steals like a thief_

_But she's always a woman to me."_

The melody was stunning—unspeakably so—but the words had an edge of bitterness to them, or of sad acceptance. My jaw tightened. If he was singing about Bella, I might just go up there and crack him over the head. But it didn't sound right. The words didn't describe the Bella I knew at all. So I began to wonder.

"_Oh, she takes care of herself_

_She can wait if she wants_

_She's ahead of her time_

_Oh, and she never gives out_

_And she never gives in_

_She just changes her mind._

He lifted an eyebrow, and frowned down at the keys.

"_And she'll promise you more than the Garden of Eden_

_Then she'll carelessly cut you_

_And laugh while you're bleeding._

_But she'll bring out the best and the worst you can be_

_Blame it all on yourself_

'_Cause she's always a woman to me."_

I took a breath, which was suddenly very difficult. This song carried so many emotions, all of them powerful, and each sentence was harsh, critical, bitter—honest. But the melody underscoring this hard surface was _gorgeous_—the sweetest, most tender, gentle and lovely sound I had ever heard. And the combination sent an ache right through me that took my breath from my body.

"_She is frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel_

_But she can do as she pleases_

_She's nobody's fool_

_And she can't be condicted_

_She's earned her degree."_

And then his topaz eyes lifted, brilliant in the light that streamed through the window, and met my gaze. And as my throat closed, I realized that he might possibly be singing about…

_Me_.

He gave me a crooked, but soft, smile, and finished the song.

"_And the most she will do is throw shadows at you,_

_But she's always a woman to me_."

He finished, holding out the chords like a held breath. When he stopped, and the music faded, I was able to breathe again. I swallowed, hoping my voice would work.

"Nice acoustics in here."

"Yes, we designed it that way," Edward said, as if nothing was unusual at all. He smiled, got up and moved to another door. "There's an 'invisible' sound system as well—I'll show you."

I stood in the middle of the room and waited, trying to gather my mind and keep my heart from beating so fast.

VVVVV

EDWARD

I pushed two buttons on a panel in the hall, and heard the music start back in the room. It was Strauss' "Vienna Blood Waltz"—Leah would laugh at me if she knew the name. I went back in, to find her gazing upward, listening. My shoes clicked on the wood as I approached.

"You've heard it?" I asked. Her brow furrowed as she listened, then she shook her head.

"No. But it's pretty."

"You know how?"

She looked at me, startled.

"How to what?"

"Waltz."

I felt bold; and after I said it, like a blundering idiot—my father would have slapped my hand for asking a girl to dance like that. Leah blinked.

"Um, maybe…?"

"Then may I have the honor?" I asked, trying to fix my mistake. She blushed, but almost smiled.

"Um, okay…"

My heart—or something like it—leaped. I had not expected that answer.

"You can put your drink on the piano," I said, snatching up a coaster and setting it on the shiny black surface. She set down her coffee, then just stood there waiting for me.

For an instant, I faltered, and a small voice in the back of my head tried to say something to me, but as I had spent most of today ignoring it, I didn't see why I should start listening now.

I stepped up to her, slid my right hand around her waist, just above the soft curve of her waist, and took up her warm right hand in my left. She set her hand on my shoulder, I took a breath, leaned to my left, and led her into the first step.

She followed me flawlessly. I actually had to snatch up my composure before I tripped—I was so surprised. Her back was straight, her head held up and turned gracefully to the side. She held herself with perfect form, and she stepped lightly, in exact time with me. Her poise gave me confidence to lead her into waltzing in a circle around the room, and then spinning. The music swelled around us, and I caught the edge of a triumphant smile beginning on her face. I felt one on my own lips.

The music occasionally slowed, and our steps grew smaller, quieter, and I drew her close to me. Then the theme rose to sweeping grandeur, and I could not resist whirling her around and around, chuckling because I felt like the ruler of Siam in "The King and I."

Then, she began to look at me. Our feet never missed a step, and we never tread on each other, but for an instant she met my eyes, and then for a longer moment, then longer, until she gazed steadily at me as we twirled. And I saw something that I had noticed before, but never truly acknowledged or absorbed:

Leah was beautiful. When the lines of bitterness and disappointment had been smoothed from her face, her skin glowed with soft prettiness, her long-lashed eyes shimmered, and her inviting mouth formed the most arch and saucy half-smiles that made me give more attention to her lips than I should have.

At last, the music drew to a close, and we found ourselves in the middle of the room once more. We just stood there in the silence, my hand still on her waist, her hand still clasping mine. I noticed her heart fluttering, now, and the blush in her cheeks. I swallowed, caught by the brilliance of her eyes.

She cleared her throat, then backed up. I released her. I felt the loss of her warmth instantly, and grew cold again.

"This room kind of reminds me of the place where I learned," she commented, looking anywhere but at me. I cocked my head.

"Where did you learn?"

"School. We learned ballroom dances for PE for a semester, and then I was in a play where we waltzed." She shrugged. "I thought it was fun."

"I enjoy it," I nodded, unable to look away from her, unable to keep from attending to every tone in her voice. She glanced at me, then smiled, as if she couldn't help it. I swallowed again. And the small voice grew louder, the twinge stronger, until I couldn't ignore it anymore.

I had tried to dance with Bella the first time she visited my home. One of my favorite classical CDs had been playing, and I had tried to coax her into a twirl and a few slow steps. Almost immediately, she had insisted she could not dance.

I had convinced myself later that it did not matter, that it was foolish to care—but in that moment, I had felt a pang of intense disappointment. Carlisle and Esme loved to dance together, and I had watched them—I had been fascinated by the rhythm of their movements, the way they gazed at each other—and I had been looking forward to sharing that with Bella. But she didn't want to. She wasn't good at it, and didn't want to learn.

Dark pain swirled in my chest, staggering me—and I betrayed it on my face.

Leah stopped, studying me.

"What?" she asked. I forced a smile.

"Nothing." I took a breath, then shook my head. "Someone like me has a lot of ghosts following him around, that's all. They pop up at inconvenient moments."

Her brow furrowed, and she watched me still. Then, she only nodded. She glanced at the door.

"I should go," she said. "Before my Mom starts to worry again."

"So soon?"

She turned sharply back to me, and I tempered my voice, becoming casual again.

"I just thought you'd be interested in Esme's rose garden," I proposed, putting my hands in my pockets. "It's very hard to grow roses up here, with the hard winters, but somehow she manages to get them to bloom all summer and fall."

It was a weak idea, and I doubted it would work to keep Leah here. Bella had enjoyed flowers if I gave them to her, but I really didn't know how much she knew about them—

"Climbing roses or tea roses?" Leah asked. My eyebrows went up.

"Um, both."

"Does she have any yellow or white?" Leah went on. "Because then I really do want to see them—Mom and I can't get yellow or white roses to grow if our lives depend on it."

I reflexively smiled. I really could not keep it from my face—something like warmth had flashed through my chest in that moment. I gestured to the door.

"Right this way."

VVVVVVV

We walked through the garden. Leah saw the white roses, and the yellow ones, and spent a great deal of time fingering their petals, breathing in their scents, and asking me questions about how Esme fertilized them, and when, and where she had bought the plants. I answered her as best I could, watching as she listened intently and memorized what I said. Beyond that, I did what I could to focus the conversation around Leah, and her interests—I still felt guilty about talking so much about myself over lunch. Therefore, I learned a great deal about her.

I learned that she loved gardening with her mom, and had a particular affection for roses. She liked hanging out with her brother—he was her best friend. They liked to go to new movies—action films and chick-flicks alike—and then sit around critiquing them afterward, like the most brutal reviewers in the world. She was fond of art, and liked to watercolor, mostly landscapes. She also wrote poetry, but she insisted that no one would ever read it until she was dead.

I got her to stay for tea—I considered that a triumph. While we sat on the back patio and she sipped her steaming cup, we talked about music. She actually liked classical, and her favorite composer was Mozart.

I was almost used to being unable to read her mind, and I actually found enjoyment in the blind give and take of conversation—it took skill, skill that I had almost forgotten. And it grew interesting when we entered a subject both of us were enthusiastic about:

Books.

We had read quite a few of the same tales, many of the classics, though she confessed that she had not read anything recently. I laughed and reminded her that I hadn't had much of an occasion to read, either. We discussed A Tale of Two Cities, and grew quiet and sad when we came to the ending.

After a moment of her gazing out at the trees, she spoke in a soft voice.

"Have you ever read Jane Eyre?"

"No," I admitted, leaning forward in my chair. "Alice loves it—I know she has it—but she was always so protective of her copy that I never got near it."

Leah glanced at it.

"It's one of my favorites, and…" She hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say what she had been thinking.

"What?" I wondered. She took a breath, halted, then gave me a funny look.

"Please tell me," I pressed. "You have me curious, now."

"I was going to say," she studied her empty cup. "That you might identify with Mr. Rochester. A little. Not all the way, but a little."

I watched her, intrigued. She gave me a quick smile, then set her cup down on the table.

"I really do have to go now," she said, and got up. "Thanks for lunch, and for the garden tour."

I got up too, but could think of nothing to do but nod.

"Do I just go around the house, or…" she gestured to the steps that led down.

"Yes," I nodded. "Do you want me to walk you around?"

"No, it's okay," she insisted. "Bye." She started down the steps, and the silence of my house, and of the woods, yawned all around me.

"Leah."

She stopped, and turned to face me. I had not meant to say that out loud, but now that I had, I had to say something more.

"If I read Jane Eyre tonight, will you discuss it with me tomorrow?"

She looked surprised, then softened.

"Sure. When?"

"Um, around ten?" I proposed. "I'll come down to the stream, so you don't have to walk all the way here."

Again, she almost smiled.

"Okay."

She made it all the way down the steps before I called her name again. She halted, and looked up into my eyes. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath and searched the trees beyond. I closed my hands into fists.

"I've…I've been meaning to ask you…" I made myself look at her, made myself take another breath, made myself speak—because I could not hold it in any longer. "Why did you kiss me?"

For a long while, she said nothing, and fear mounted inside me that I had made a grievous mistake. Then, she lifted her chin, and spoke in the most honest, quiet tone I had heard her ever use.

"Because you needed it," she said. Her expression saddened, she withdrew, and ducked her head. "See you tomorrow."

And she padded away, around the house.

I went inside, ascended the stairs, and made my way to a window so I could see her depart. She didn't look up at me to wave as she drove away. And as soon as she was out of sight, a gaping hole opened up in my chest.

I staggered downstairs, found the phone, and hurriedly punched in the numbers. I put it to my ear, waited through the excruciating slowness of several rings, and before the person on the other line had even finished saying hello, I spoke.

"Carlisle, it's Edward. I need to talk to you."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_I have delayed a bit, haven't I? I apologize—but here's a new chapter! Within it, you may recognize a modified passage from Breaking Dawn. Just as in "Full Moon," I have taken a pivotal moment in Meyer's Twilight Saga and turned it on its head. I hope you enjoy the result. Please let me know what you think!_

_VVVVVVVVVVVVV_

NINE

_The maiden was very tired from her long journey,_

_But she walked up to the troll castle and knocked on the door._

"_I am just a girl looking for work," said the maiden_

_To the troll princess who answered._

"_Good. Then come right in," said the troll princess,_

_Who meant to let the poor girl work until the trolls _

_Turned her into a stone statue._

"_Clean everything in the castle except the room_

_Behind the door with the gold knob on the third floor."_

_The maiden began to work and all the while_

_The trolls in the castle teased her and threw sand and dirt_

_On each place that she had cleaned._

_When she reached the second floor_

_The troll princess threw soot all around and pulled her hair._

LEAH

It was the truth. It was. How he had gotten it out of me, I still wasn't sure. But as I walked up the drive to my house, I had to confess to myself that the intense discomfort of admitting it had not faded during the car ride.

Yes, when I had kissed Edward, I had been overpowered by a supernatural, radiating energy that I was certain had come from him. But it was not, as I had supposed before, a predatory, dominant, forceful, lustful power. Instead, it was as if he had flung open the door to his soul, laying bare every torment, every longing, every deficiency, every nightmare, every hope—and chief among them were the desire to be loved, and the terror of being alone. And it _overwhelmed _me. It had touched me on a deep, spiritual level, like an electric wire touching a nerve, rendering me reasonless. So my heart had done the thinking for me. And I had reacted. That was all.

I heaved a sigh, trying to put all that behind me before I went inside. However, I had been so deep in thought that I had failed to realize that Jacob's rabbit was parked in the drive, until he almost hit me in the head when he opened my front door.

"Leah!" he yelped, coming around the squeaking open door. "Sorry, I…" He trailed off. His eyes locked with mine. I went cold down to my bones.

"Jacob…" I warned, raising my hands. Beneath his black t-shirt, his broad chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath. Then, he lunged at me, grabbed my shoulders, shoved me back, back towards the woods until a tree and some shrubs hid us. Then, he slammed me back against a tree, locked his iron-like hands around my upper arms, leaned in, closed his eyes and sucked in breaths, over and over, smelling my neck, my hair, the shoulders of my shirt.

"Vampire," he gnashed. He tested the air around my forehead. "Cullen." His eyes flashed open, and he stared at me. "Edward." His hands tightened until it hurt. "I'll kill him," he hissed. "I will _kill _him. Tell me where he is. _Tell me_."

My heart hammered in my chest.

"Jacob, it's not what you think—"

His eyes blazed. He lifted his head, and spoke through his teeth, his face just inches from mine.

"Oh, yeah? What do I think?"

"Whatever it is, it's not right," I insisted.

"It's not?" His gaze was deadly now—black and smoldering. "What I think is that you've been in _extremely _close proximity to Edward Cullen within the past _hour_. Is that wrong?"

"No, but—"

"And I also think that he didn't hurt you, and you didn't hurt him—you didn't even phase. Is _that _wrong?"

"No—"

"And I also think that this isn't a new thing for either of you." He let go of me, and folded his muscular arms. He lowered his head, still pinning me to the spot with his eyes, still standing just as close, towering over me. "I don't smell any kind of fear on you at all." He jerked his chin. "What's going on? Talk fast."

I clenched my teeth. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Talk, Leah," he growled. "Or I'll go get Sam."

"No!" I cried. Jacob's eyes flared.

"You've got a problem with Sam?"

"Of course I've got a problem with Sam!" I yelped. Then, I jerked my gaze toward the house, praying no one had heard me. "I mean," I gasped, turning back to Jacob. "I've _always_ had a problem with Sam—and he won't help the situation—he won't even listen to me if I try to tell him the truth—"

"_I'm _listening, Leah," Jacob cut me off. "But I'm not feeling very patient right now."

The danger rippled out from him—sensing it shook my bones, and made my wolf heart tremble.

I had been caught. Yes, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had always known it would happen—but I never imagined it would happen _right _when I did not want it to.

Now that Jacob had smelled Edward on me, the next time he phased, the fact that I had been near a vampire would be public knowledge. I forced myself to count my meager blessings: it had been _Jacob_, and not one of the others. Jacob might hear me. Jacob might listen. Jacob was my only hope.

I sucked in a breath, trying not to tremble, realizing what I needed to do—what I _must _do. My gaze darted back toward the house again.

"Let me…Let me put on my sarong, and—" I returned my eyes to him. "Will you go for a run with me?"

He gave me a sideways look—dark and perilous.

"Why?"

"I just can't _explain_ all of it, Jacob," I shook my head, desperately hoping he would understand. "I'm just gonna…you know, let you see." I swallowed hard. "I'll let you see everything. Then you…you can decide."

He watched me for a moment, hesitant, then nodded once.

"Hurry up."

VVVVV

I met him again in wolf form, right where he waited, my sarong tied around my neck. It was easier to keep my muscles from quaking as I tread on all fours, but my tail tucked down between my legs, and I dared not look him in the eye. I had the twisting sensation of being a girl in some third-world country about to be stripped bare for people to look at her.

Jacob, in human form, nodded, then ducked behind a large tree. I saw him peel off his shirt, and then a large cinnamon-colored wolf emerged, catching my eye as he strode forward.

_He's so big—so much bigger than Sam… _I mused at the sight of his powerful form.

_ Thank you, _Jacob wagged his tail once, but darkness colored his thoughts. _Do you wanna—_

_ Not here, not yet, _I said, fighting to focus my thoughts so he wouldn't hear anything too soon. _Let's go. _

I broke into a run, and raced past him, hearing his surprised _Shoot_, just behind me as he turned and followed.

We jetted between the trees, away from my house, toward the stream where I had been meeting Edward. The trail was well-worn, now, and no foliage or ferns obstructed our feet. We almost flew, running in rhythm, breathing deep and swift.

_How long as that leech been here? And why the heck didn't Leah tell us—Did he threaten her? What if Bella sees him? What if he comes after her? What will I do if she decides she still wants him…?_

These were Jacob's questions—questions that darted around in my mind like a bullet bouncing around in a cave. But I could not tell him to hold on a minute, because my own thoughts were in chaos.

_What am I going to let him see? Everything? Do I have a choice? What will he do to me? What will he do to Edward? And what will happen when Sam finds out…?_

All together, it created a veritable racket in my head.

At last, panting like racehorses, we skidded into the small clearing and I stopped. Jacob slowed down just feet behind me, then splashed forward into the water. He glanced at me.

_Oh, no—here it goes…_ I winced, knowing that my mental defenses were like a soap bubble about to be broken.

Jacob fixed his eyes on me, then lowered his head.

_Ready?_

I didn't say anything. I just lifted my muzzle, and let out a sigh. I would do this willingly, rather than have him rummage through my mind. I would take his hand, as it were, and lead him through everything that had happened. I had no choice. Because whatever wound up happening, I had no chance of avoiding disaster unless I had an ally who knew the _whole _story.

As I stared straight back into Jacob's penetrating eyes, I went back in my mind, lifting up images, feelings, thoughts, from the day of my father's funeral, like pulling up the hulks of wrecked ships from the depths of the sea: The pelting rain, the screaming of my heart, the long, hard run through the dark, wet woods.

Finding Edward in the stream, and watching his pale lips murmur an old prayer. The violence of our first confrontation—like thunder and lightning crashing through freezing, foaming water—and the moment when I looked at his face and knew I could not kill him. Our daily meetings, when I followed him like a shadow through the woods as he hunted. The night when I had almost bled to death by the teeth of the bear trap, and he had saved me.

After that memory, everything suddenly broke loose of my control. My thoughts flashed everywhere, back and forth, with no order or priority: The look of Edward's smile by firelight; the way he turned a phrase when he talked about Sherlock Holmes; the way his fingers danced across the keys of a piano; the words _"Come on, dearest. You can't leave me here." _ The way his topaz eyes filled with pain and I knew he was thinking about Bella; the feel of his cool hands upon my feverish skin that night when I had sobbed over my broken heart; the way he almost smiled—almost!—as he whirled me across the dance floor.

The way my lips had collided with his—like fire and ice this time—and how I had wanted to kiss him deeper and harder, and the thrill that had raced through me when I felt him _kiss me back_. His amused expression when he made a light comment about a yellow rose in Esme's garden; the way he made me feel like a lady without even trying when he opened a door or pulled out a chair; the way he looked at me—just looked at me, without speaking, without moving, as if there was no one else in the world, and that I commanded all his attention.

At first, I heard Jacob's random exclamations, his breathless, stunned comments. But then he fell silent, fighting to absorb everything, even forgetting his own fiery questions for a moment.

At last, with a fading image of Edward standing on his back patio watching me with earnest eyes as I left just this afternoon, I blinked, and focused again on Jacob. He sat right in front of me on the shore, looking down at me, his ears perked. For once, his mind was silent, and so was mine. I listened as he processed a little, just running a few images over in his head again. The kiss was a big one—he kept bringing that up and mentally recoiling, but when he brought up _my _feelings—how I felt broken and lost—he lingered. And then he revisited Edward and my smiles, and brief laughter, and the compliments I had thought to give him but never said out loud.

_Wow, _Jacob finally murmured. _I just…wow._

I heard his disbelief, his shock—he had _never_ expected to come across so many things that were so deeply personal. I was glad I was a wolf right now. I would have blushed in mortification.

_Wait—Leah—don't be embarrassed_, Jacob cut in, and a worried flurry of discomfort issued from him. _I mean, I'm not… I don't want you to think that I'm…I mean…_ He huffed out a huge sigh and glanced to the side. _You wanna root around in my brain, to get even?_

A few momentary flashes of him and Bella in the midst of a deep kiss in the moonlight, with her arms wrapped around his neck hard, lit my consciousness, and I shied away from them.

_Yuck—no thanks. _

_Oh, wow—_Jacob flinched, laying his ears back. _Sorry, I just—_

_ Jacob, _I brought him back. _Did you see? I mean, did you see what I was trying to show you?_

His mind quieted.

_I see you're in love with a vampire. _

I rocked back on my haunches. My eyes went wide, and I froze.

_What…? _I stammered. _Wait…what? _

Jacob snorted.

_That isn't obvious to you? _He canted his head at me. _It _isn't_, is it?_

_ Jacob, I don't know what you—_

_ Clearly you don't_, he said, but his tone carried more wondering than scorn. _What is it, then, that you feel for him?_

_I…Well, I don't_… I tried, my thoughts and feelings churning so that even Jacob wouldn't be able to decipher them. I took several deep breaths, but each one came with more difficulty.

_Jacob, _I started again, and I heard the pain in my mental voice as surely as if I had spoken through tears. _He…He was there for me when nobody else was. He put up with my tantrums and name-calling and…He saved my life. He's…He's my friend. And I don't want you to hurt him. Please don't hurt him._

I felt Jacob weigh the options again. Felt him hold up his own prejudices and fears in one hand, and what he had just learned from me in the other. It was a titanic struggle for him—I heard him fish up memories of Bella lying on a stony beach, half-drowned, after he had pulled her from the icy depths. But I also heard him recall _my _memories—those of _me _lying on a stony beach after _Edward _had pulled me from the water. And I sensed the tide turn. I felt him set aside his anger. For unlike anyone else in the pack, Jacob's heart ruled him before anything or anyone else did—and his heart was good. So I held onto that one thread of hope with all my might.

A decision clicked in his mind. I shivered. He spoke.

_I won't hurt him, _He said._ For two reasons. One: He has had plenty of opportunities to sneak off and hurt humans—or go after Bella—and he hasn't. And two…_ He took a breath. _I won't hurt him, because you asked me not to. _

_ Really? _I whispered, stunned. _Really Jake—you mean that?_

_I do, _He held my gaze. _But he has to leave. _

That stopped me.

_Any particular reason? _I asked, though the words felt like thorns.

_Because I am willing to listen to you, and take the time to understand. I mean, I don't totally understand, but I'm not unreasonable. I'm also not the Alpha._

_ Right, _I winced. _Sam wouldn't…_

_Not for two seconds_, Jacob said. _It's better for everybody—especially Cullen—if he gets the heck out of here. Sounds like his family is in Seattle? _

_Um, yes, I think I remember that—_

_ Tell him to go there. Tell him to get out and never come back. _Jacob paused. He lowered his head, and looked pointedly at me. _This is all coming out, you know that, right? Because even if you never phased again, the next time _I _phase, the whole pack is going to know every detail, whether I want them to or not._

_ I know, _I whispered.

_So you understand where I'm coming from? _Jacob wanted to confirm. _I hate that leech, but I'll lay off, for your sake—and because he saved your life and I owe him for that. But Sam and the others—they'll kill him. You know they will._

_ Yeah, _I breathed. _You're right. _

Jacob cocked his head, considering me again. I could barely look at him.

_Will you be okay? _

I sat for a moment, my chest clenched in strange, uneasy pain, then got up and rubbed my forehead head against Jacob's warm, furry chest.

_Thank you, Jacob Black, _I murmured. _Thanks for listening. _

_Hey, _he said, and his voice gained such gentleness that if I had been in human form, I would have broken down sobbing.

_It'll be okay, Leah, _he promised, bending his own great head to nuzzle against my ear. _I promise. If you tell Edward tomorrow morning when you meet him, and he leaves fast, the pack will find out about this whole thing _after_ he's a long way away. Then we can talk to Sam in human form, with all of us on equal footing. We'll work it out, okay? I'll be right there with you. _

_ Okay, _I sighed, trying to push back that tearful burning at the back of my throat. _Thanks_.

_Okay. Let's go back and get something to eat, and then we can talk later, all right? _He proposed.

I backed up and licked his nose. His surprise almost pleased me—it would have warmed me up if I didn't feel so distant. Then the two of us got to our feet, and turned to head back down the path—

To find our way blocked by a great black wolf.

His legs were braced, his hackles raised, his head lowered as if he was about to lunge. I knew his face. I knew that look like the back of my hand.

_Sam! _I yelped.

_Sam, hold on a sec— _Jacob tried. Sam's yellow eyes nailed us to the ground. And with a jolt of horror, I realized that Sam had followed us. He had heard _everything_. I froze. He blinked once.

_Well_, Sam growled. _It appears we have a problem._

_ Sam, you don't understand— _I gasped.

_ I do, _he snapped back. _I saw it all. You've been sucked in by a vampire, and Jacob—because he's young and inexperienced—thinks he was going to let that slide. _Sam leveled a withering glare at Jacob. _Do you have any idea how much danger you've just put us in?_

_ I know exactly what I'm doing, _Jacob retorted. _I'm the one who's been fighting off all of Bella's demons after what the Cullens—_

_ Then you should understand that we cannot tolerate this! _Sam shot back. He looked at me, and his tone carried sympathy. _Leah, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault._

_ Sam, no, _I snapped my teeth. _This was my choice—I decided to—_

_Right, just like Bella did_, Sam's sarcasm bit like acid, but carried desperate remorse. _There is no way I am letting the same thing happen to you. I've failed you so many times already, Leah. I'm not going to let it happen again._

_ Sam, what are you going to do? _Jacob demanded.

_What I need to do to protect this pack, _he said. _Whether you two like it or not. _

_Sam—_

But it was too late. Sam drew in a deep breath, and then the words that resounded through our heads carried a double tone that made us crumple to the ground, even as my heart screamed in rebellion.

_Jacob Black_, Sam's thunderous alpha voice rumbled. _Go immediately to Bella Swan, take her home, and protect her there. Do not follow me. Leah Clearwater—_

I flinched away from him.

_Sam, please, don't—_

_Go home. Stay in the house until I come to get you. I will wait here for Cullen. _

The crushing pressure lifted. Jacob and I got up off the ground. And though I fought my muscles until they almost tore, Jacob and I began to drag ourselves back toward my house, like puppets on a string, and I could do nothing but bite my tongue until it bled. 

VVVVV

EDWARD

Carlisle had been sensible enough to leave my Volvo in the garage for me, and so when twilight fell, I backed it out and began to drive by the fading light, the public library's audio-book of Jane Eyre set in the CD player. I had to talk to Carlisle, who was in Seattle at the moment. But I also had to keep my promise to Leah.

As I sped along the empty, winding roads, tall, silent pine-trees flanking me, the sky darkening above me, I listened to the reader, absorbing the story despite the pain in my chest. I listened harder than I usually would have, in fact, because I had to know what Leah had meant about me being like Mr. Rochester.

My attentiveness was rewarded. It was not long before I came across a passage that hit me right in the breastbone, and almost forced me to pull over—because it was like the authoress had held up a mirror to my face.

"_God wot I need not be too severe about others; I have a past existence, a series of deeds, a colour of life to contemplate within my own breast, which might well call my sneers and censures from my neighbours to myself. I started, or rather (for like other defaulters, I like to lay half the blame on ill fortune and adverse circumstances) was thrust on to a wrong tack at the age of one-and-twenty, and have never recovered the right course since: but I might have been very different; I might have been as good as you – wiser—almost as stainless. I envy you your peace of mind, your clean conscience, your unpolluted memory. Little girl, a memory without blot or contamination must be an exquisite treasure - an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment: is it not? I was your equal at eighteen—quite your equal. Nature meant me to be, on the whole, a good man, Miss Eyre; one of the better kind, and you see I am not so." _

I passed the drive to Seattle without breathing—only listening, and directing the car. The story sank in slowly, and I found pleasure the rhythm of the words—they seemed familiar to me, like echoes from a dream of home. Perhaps my mother had read this book aloud to Father and me some evening by the fire. I listened even when I reached the traffic of the city, and maneuvered through the flash of lights and rumble of engines, and the hurried movements of the pedestrians. The tall brick buildings crowded in around me like the trees had before, and I swerved into a little-used parking garage just across the way from an old Seattle's Best coffee shop. I shut off my car, then sat a moment, listening to the void left behind when the reader's voice went silent.

I got out of the car, slammed the door and locked it, then buttoned my gray jacket and turned up the collar. I walked out of the shadow of the parking lot, my heels tapping against the cement, and stepped onto the street.

Cool wind hit me, and blew my hair. I stuck my hands in my pockets and put my lowered my head, striding through the pools of yellow light created by the streetlamps. I wove through the people, knowing my destination was just ahead of me, so I avoided all eye-contact and counted the cracks in the pavement.

If this had happened months ago, I would have detected the familiar, silent tones from afar; the flash of relief and surprise, and the abrupt decision to break with decorum and run to me. But since my mind was deaf, I had no warning before a body as tall and strong as mine hit me, flung his arms around me and embraced me with all his might.

I saw nothing—it happened too fast. But I knew these arms, this smell, and I wrapped one arm around his neck and one around his back, and buried my face in the fleece of his scarf. I pulled in a suddenly shaking breath, squeezing my eyes shut, wanting to weep at the smell of barley and oak, and pipe tobacco, and every nuance of the clothing and heart-scent that was Carlisle Cullen.

We said nothing, and just held each other there in the middle of the sidewalk as the pedestrians walked around us, looking at us, puzzling over us. But neither of us moved. What did we care? We had all the time in the world, and they were mortals, living fleeting lives, like those of birds—they neither knew us, nor would they remember us. I called Carlisle my father because it made sense in our charade as we lived among the humans. But Carlisle had always truly been my captain, my older brother, and above all, my greatest friend. And in a thousand years he and I would still be almost as one mind, whether we were side by side or half a world apart.

I felt Carlisle press his hand to the back of my head, then he backed up and took my face in his hands. Broken relief washed across his golden countenance, half-lit by the streetlamp. He smiled, but I saw the anguish in his bright eyes.

"Edward!" he said, taking hold of my shoulders and gripping them. "Are you all right?"

I just gazed at him, my jaw locked, pain choking me. I had gotten used to communicating with Bella and then Leah without my ability, and had somewhat forgotten—but when my mind reached out for Carlisle's, searching for the ebbs and flows of thought that I knew as well as my own voice, I heard nothing. Nothing.

It was like he was dead.

My face twisted. Carlisle's hands tightened on me, and he leaned toward me, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"It's all right—I am here," he said quietly, firmly. "Walk with me. We can talk."

VVVVVV

I told him everything. Everything from the day I left Bella in the woods, to my suspicion she was dead, to my witnessing Harry's funeral, to Leah's kiss, all the way to this afternoon where I stood at the window watching Leah drive away and feeling as if I had lost myself all over again. Carlisle listened without a single interruption, even though I paused for several minutes on more than one occasion. After I had finally finished, we remained silent for a long while.

"And you still cannot hear anything?" Carlisle, ever the doctor, finally wanted to clarify as we strolled side by side down an empty, foggy street much like those we used to frequent in London long ago. I shook my head.

"Nothing coherent. Vague sounds sometimes, like echoes, or wind outside a large house." I sighed, and glanced at him, searching the profile of his face, trying desperately to reach out and find him. But it was as if I was lost in a maze of ten foot shrubbery, screaming his name, only to have my voice muffled into silence. He looked at me, stopped, then reached up and felt the back of my head. I faced him, and closed my eyes in a wince as his fingers found the spot and caused an ache to run across my skull.

"Yes, there is a bump there," he observed. "It feels like scar tissue. It may take some force to knock it loose."

I smirked, and opened one eye at him.

"So I should hit my head with a rock again?"

"No," Carlisle shook his head, turned and kept walking. "That could cause even more damage."

I swallowed, and caught up to him as he put his hands in the pockets of his black coat again.

"It must have been difficult for you, without your ability, to ascertain Miss Clearwater's feelings," Carlisle supposed. I heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Very," I muttered. "She was abrasive, bitter, even savage, and as deeply prejudiced as anyone I have ever met." I kicked a stone ahead of me. It bounced on the cement. "But it makes sense. That hard exterior actually covers a deep pain, like…" I rubbed the back of my head. "Like scar tissue. She had just lost her father, she had been betrayed by the man she loved, and her body started to change in ways that were _not _welcome."

"She sounds very much like Rosalie," Carlisle mused. I paused, considering that unexpected idea. Finally, I nodded.

"Yes. She does."

Carlisle's brow furrowed.

"You say that is what you thought of Miss Clearwater at first," he said. "But I assume your opinion of her changed, if you invited her to visit you?"

I tilted my head to the side, considering.

"Leah is different from the others in her pack." I almost smiled. "In the beginning, we couldn't even have a conversation without it turning into a fight. But for some reason, she kept coming back to me." My brow furrowed. "I'm not sure why. Maybe I just served as a distraction from all the grief in her life." I paused as I remembered the way she followed me through the woods, like a shadow in the night, always at a distance, but always present. "We got used to each other," I said. "And I started looking forward to seeing her. Strange, I know—especially when all she did was insult me. But she was a constant, and _she _distracted _me._" I took a deep breath, tracing back, trying to remember how it had happened. But I couldn't. All I knew was that something had shifted within me, and I could not go back to the way it had been before. "All at once," I murmured. "It started to matter to me that she was so unhappy. It frustrated me that she wouldn't admit it or ask for help from anyone—and it frustrated me even more that I could not get inside her mind to see what she needed. I wanted to help her." I sighed. "The best I could do was have more patience with her comments, because I understood that they were just a reflex, like a dog that bites because she's been beaten."

"Did you ever succeed in helping? Truly helping?" Carlisle wondered. I frowned, and I did not speak until we had passed beneath the pools of light that three lamps cast.

"Well…" I began. "I pulled her from the river, as I told you. And after that, her jibes stopped. They became teasing, instead. She talked with me as if we were people, instead of a werewolf and a vampire. She even asked about me—about my past, and various misadventures with _you_," I smiled crookedly. "And she seemed genuinely interested. Actually, I _know _she was, because she has always been repelled by my 'vampire-ness,' and I've been repelled by her dog smell, so we…Well, none of the magnetism that I usually have had any effect on her." I looked at Carlisle, and swallowed hard. "We danced together. And as she was leaving that day, I came to a revelation that hit me like a freight train." I stopped, and Carlisle faced me. I bent my head, and spoke straight to him, my voice tight and earnest in spite of myself.

"Carlisle—not _once_ had I been tempted to taste her blood. Not once. Actually, I hadn't even thought about it until that moment. But now that I know it, I know why I felt so free whenever I was with her. It was because I knew that even if I _did _lose control, I couldn't hurt her."

Carlisle's eyebrows went up.

"How do you come to _that_ conclusion?"

I heaved a sigh, hating to admit that I had done this, but I had to tell him the truth.

"Early on, she and I had a scuffle," I confessed. "I threw her. She phased—but she wasn't hurt. Not even bruised. Something would have to hit her _very _hard to injure her."

"Incredible," Carlisle mused. "Of course, I would have assumed that, in her wolf form she would be a force to be reckoned with, but since vampires and Quileutes have never been tested in battle against each other before, I had no idea that their _human _forms would be just as strong."

"But she is. And I am never worried about her," I declared. "Never obsessed about the vampire breaking out of me. And I don't lament over being a monster, because—well, I _am _a monster, and she thinks I am, and she thinks she's one, too." I laughed and shook my head. "I actually found myself trying to prove my _humanity _to her rather than my vampirism. I had never done that before." I slowed, my voice softening. "But I think she's finally seen it. And…I've seen beneath that tough exterior she always tries so hard to maintain. And Carlisle—I never thought I'd say this about one of _them_—but she is strong. And good." I took a deep breath. "And absolutely beautiful. I don't know how Sam Uley gave her up so easily."

Carlisle said nothing for a very long while. Then, he turned and strode onward, and we resumed our walk. I gritted my teeth at Carlisle's pensive look, feeling like I was gazing at a sphinx.

"Do you have any idea what Miss Clearwater's feelings toward you might be?" he finally asked. I shifted my shoulders, my chest tightening.

"No," I admitted. "But she doesn't reveal her feelings, about anything, and has just begun acting civilly toward me." I sighed and shook my head. "I have no idea if she counts me as a friend." My voice lowered, my words tight. "I wish she would."

"It seems your instincts have already given you your answer, however," Carlisle observed. He drew himself up. "So now is the best time to take your leave of her—while you are still fairly certain that she is not in danger of reciprocating your feelings."

I halted.

"Reciprocating?" I repeated, unsure if I had heard him correctly. He turned and faced me, studying me.

"You're in love with her," he stated. "That's why you came, isn't it? To ask my advice?"

I froze, stiller than I had ever become. I stared at Carlisle, hearing his words, feeling them sink down inside me and lodge within my heart.

Everything that made me who I was - my love for the girl I had met long ago in a high school biology class, my love for Carlisle and Esme, my loyalty to my coven, my hatred for my enemies, my home, my name, my self - disconnected from me in that second, and floated up into space.

I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was. Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing - to the very center of the universe.

I could see that now—how the universe swirled around this one point. I had never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain.

The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood.  
It was the woman that I had watched leave my house just this afternoon that held me

here now.

Leah.

"Yes," I whispered. "I suppose so."

Carlisle stepped close to me and put his hands on my shoulders.

"I am so glad you came to me at this juncture rather than later," he said, his eyes ardent. "Because if you thought the situation with _Bella _was complicated, this is ten times more so."

My eyes flashed, because my mind was still shocked at the incredible discovery I had just made. But Carlisle went on.

"Miss Clearwater has a family—not only her brother and mother, but half a dozen more 'brothers' who care about what happens to her, along with an entire tribe. I doubt very much that they would stop and take the time to get to know you rather than killing you on the spot for trespassing on their land and endangering their sister."

I swallowed hard, but could not speak. Carlisle gripped my shoulders.

"And even if Miss Clearwater _did _feel the same way you do," he said. "If she chose you, she would be ostracized from her people, her home, her roots—she would be cut loose from everything she knows. From what you have told me of her, it does not sound as if she wishes to be a wolf forever, am I right?"

I nodded, once.

"She wishes to stop phasing and have children," Carlisle correctly assumed. "You cannot give her that."

I hung my head, a strange, foreign pain striking the inside of my breastbone. Carlisle's grip gentled.

"I know this is difficult. Believe me, I do," he said, his voice soft. "But perhaps we can all learn from what happened with Bella?"

I glanced up at him, and nodded again. Carlisle's words were too full of truth for me to fight them, no matter what my heart said. The revelation that I loved Leah flowed easily, like a deep river, into Carlisle's logical conclusion. I wanted to argue. But I could not. Especially when I knew in the depths of my being that Leah did not love me back.

"Edward," Carlisle murmured, capturing my eyes with his and urging me to listen. "Someday, you will meet a girl who is already one of us. She will understand you, and our family, and no heart-wrenching choice will lie before her. It will be easy, for both of you, and it will bring you _happiness _instead of pain and worry and heartbreak. And you will be as contented as Esme and I have always been."

I stood paralyzed for a long time, but Carlisle did not let go of me. I was glad he didn't. My legs suddenly felt weak.

"Shall we walk?" Carlisle asked, and even if I could not read his mind, I could hear the grave concern, the love he had for me, in his tones. Carlisle was wise, and he was right. But it still felt as if the stitches of a new wound had just been ripped open.

Carlisle and I walked without words until midnight, until we came to the place we had initially met. He paused, watching me.

"You have to go back, don't you?"

I nodded.

"I do. I promised her I would meet her by the stream in the morning." I took a breath. It hurt. "I will tell her I am leaving. And then I will come find you."

Carlisle nodded, then stepped in and embraced me once more. After a long moment, we parted ways, and I left him with a repetition of the promise I had made earlier that I would find him as soon as I had said goodbye to Leah.

As I drove back, I continued to listen to Jane Eyre, even though I knew Leah and my discussion would not center around that. But the sound of the reader's voice distracted my mind, even as sorrow swelled within my chest and pulsed out into my arms. It was then that I began to identify with the tortured, conflicted Jane as well as the lonely Mr. Rochester, and I absently wondered—though it caused me sharp, deep pain—if Leah had done the same.

_"Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonized as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love."_

VVVVV

LEAH

I stood just inside the threshold of my house, wrapped in my sarong, my forehead pressed against the screen, my toes shoved up against the bottom of the door, tears running down my face.

Sam's alpha command locked my muscles, hitched my breathing. I could not move forward and out the door, but I refused to move backward even an inch. I clenched my teeth, sucking in labored gasps, my hands closed into white-knuckled fists.

Seth had left, following Sam's call to the hunt. I knew the rest of the pack had gone as well—except Jacob.

They were going to kill Edward. He was coming to our stream, unguarded, expecting to see _me_, and instead he was walking into a trap. If it was only Sam, Edward might have stood a chance. But a vampire could not escape the entire pack—not when they were ready for him.

It was my fault. All of it. I should never have begun to speak to him, never let him be my friend. I should have known better. Our kinds could never coexist—we were made to be at war. Because of my selfishness, the very nature of my people was going to destroy someone who suddenly meant the world to me.

I let out a clenched moan, a grunt of pain.

But Sam had not even tried to understand. He was not open to negotiating, nor had the fact that Edward had saved me—_twice_—seemed to hold any weight. He was just going to end him, as if Edward was a rabid dog, regardless of the way I felt about it. As if I didn't have enough brains in my head to protect myself.

I tried to lift my hand. It did not move.

It _was_ my fault. And I was the only one who could fix it.

But Sam's command held me rooted to the spot, as if he had control of my very bones. I could not defy my pack leader—it was impossible. No matter how much I railed against it, as long as Sam wore the mantle of the alpha, I was subject to his orders, and even if I wanted to go against him, I…

I paused. I blinked. Two tears fell, and my eyes cleared.

The pack leader…

Was he my leader? For the past few months, I had never once gone on a pack run, or phased in his presence. I had behaved as a lone wolf, obeying my own orders.

And Sam wasn't even the true alpha.

Jacob was.

I clenched my teeth even harder, and sucked in a deep breath as dread rolled through me.

If I did this, I would have to give up everything—the pack, Jacob, even my brother. I would have to sacrifice everything I had known, everything that rooted me to my people.

But if my pack and my brother murdered Edward, I would lose it all, anyway.

I sucked in another breath, moaned, then let out a roar of fury and pain, as if the muscles in my chest were ripping. I thrashed my head, slammed my heel down against the threshold, howled again, and with a hand that shook with a raging palsy, I reached up and grasped the doorknob.

"Sam Uley," I hissed, more tears falling, my heart thundering in my chest. "You. Let. Me. _Go_."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_The response to that last chapter overwhelmed me with delight! I'm thrilled you're so enjoying! :D Please, overwhelm me again! J Just for fun, if you are interested, I listened to "Titanic-Hymn to the Sea" while writing the first part of this chapter, then "Requiem for a Dream," for the faster-moving part. Let me know what you think, and enjoy!_

_VVVVVV_

TEN

_The maiden was so tired that she could hardly move,_

_But she finally reached the third floor._

_She found the door with the gold knob and opened it._

_Before her was the youth._

_He lay motionless, his eyes closed, encased in a block of ice._

_Quickly the maiden took the small tinder box_

_From beneath her rags and set the bedclothes on fire._

_The fire melted the ice and the water put out the fire._

EDWARD

I walked through the woods by the light of the gray dawn, my feet soundless. Here and there, leaves trailed down through from above, like the beginnings of snow. There were no shadows, but neither was there sunlight. Nothing stirred. All was silent. I alone moved, like a phantom, between the wizened trees, my head low, my eyes on the path before me.

I heard the rustle of the stream long before I saw it. It pulled me forward, when I wanted to retreat. I gritted my teeth, reminding myself of Carlisle's words, pressing down on my rebellious heart until it could not speak.

I found our little clearing—the place where we had sat by the fire. The black sticks still remained, half buried in little stones and wet sand. I stood beside them, and stared down at them. Where flames had once danced, warm and bright, now all was cold, and overtaken by the steady, inevitable swell of the water.

I turned my gaze to the river. The river—always flowing, always moving, and yet the feet of an army could not change its course, nor could its flow be divided even if a man stood in the midst of it and tried with all his might. A river could not be forced to alter its path with sudden, violent, hasty measures. No, it had to be slowly, firmly persuaded, or else it would dissipate, rebel, and lay asunder all efforts to contain it. Its slow, stubborn power would wear down anything that stood in its way, until it became dust—even the strongest stone. And as long as there was snow on the mountains and summer to melt it, this river would live on, the same as ever, while the trees and animals grew up and lived and died all around it.

I knelt down, and dragged my fingers through the icy current. What a strange paradox was water—what an odd conundrum: life moving in the same form as death. No life could exist without water, and yet if any living thing were plunged beneath its surface for too long, the water would be the bearer of death. But if a raging fire raked through the forest, reducing everything around it to ashes, the fire would halt like a dog at the end of its tether, and bow, defeated, at the feet of the river.

Water was death and life in the same form—the church had used it for decades as a symbol of death and rebirth. And so had it been with this river: nothing that was swallowed by these currents re-emerged the same. I knew I had not.

I drew my hand out of the stream and covered my eyes. The cold water ran down my cheeks.

Oh, how I would miss her.

VVVV

The sky lightened. Shadows began to lift. I stayed where I was. But the birds did not sing.

I heard a sound. A sound that did not belong among these trees. Night was my shadow, and this forest was the back of my hand. Another creature moved through them both. And it was not Leah.

I lifted my head, and gazed at the opposite bank.

A shadow, black and silent, detached from the darkness of the shrubbery, and yellow, unfamiliar eyes glowed across the distance. I rose to my feet.

The creature was a wolf—a large, tawny black beast. I narrowed my eyes. I did not recognize his scent—it was not Jacob Black. But by the commanding way he held himself, I could easily guess that it was Sam Uley.

And he wasn't alone. Off to my left, a dark brown wolf emerged, beside a gray-spotted one. To my left, two more melted into my line of sight—sand colored, then light brown. And high behind me, I sensed another step out and fix me with his eyes, like a hunter aligning his crosshairs.

I drew myself up and faced Sam, who stood with his broad paws on the edge of the river.

"I only want to talk to Leah," I said, keeping my voice even. "I came to tell her I am leaving."

Sam did not acknowledge that I had spoken. His deadly, unblinking gaze stayed locked on my face, and he took a low, smooth step forward. I felt the rest of the pack tense.

"Forgive me for trespassing on your land," I tried. "But I never harmed any humans, and I didn't hurt Leah."

Sam's lips curled back from his teeth, and he let out a low, rumbling growl.

"Don't be a fool," I warned. "If you attack me I _will _defend myself—_you _will be responsible for the consequences."

Was that a smirk that flashed across the black wolf's face? He stepped toward me again. The pack members did the same—like a tightening noose.

"You are making a mistake."

But they did not listen. Sam Uley's eyes flashed—

And I only managed to send out a silent plea for Leah to forgive me before Sam lunged at my throat.

I threw my shoulder into his chest. We slammed down into the froth of the river. Then, all reality exploded into pandemonium.

VVVV

LEAH

I crashed to my knees on the hard wood of my front porch. My whole body shuddered, and I threw up over the side into the shrubs.

But then, the blinding haze in my mind cleared. The agony in my chest vanished. When I blinked, I found my mind belonged to me again. And when I stood up and took a deep breath, I moved under my own power.

I wiped my mouth, took another deep breath, and felt strength surge through me—strength I had never known. It suddenly came to me that this is what Sam felt every day—for this new strength was that of an alpha. I was the alpha, and the pack was me.

I readied my body, like a coiled spring, then launched off the porch.

In mid air, I phased.

Gray fur rippled from my lengthening nose all the way down to the tip of my tail. My sarong stayed around my middle. My paws struck the ground and I exploded into an all-out gallop, diving into the woods.

I would no longer be able to hear the thoughts of my former brothers, but there was no mistaking their smells, or the smell of the one they were trying to kill. I knew I would be able to find them. I pushed my already break-neck speed, and set my jaw to do whatever I had to do once I got to that river.

VVVVVVVV

EDWARD

Sam was an awesome power. We wrestled like Titans, shredding the bottom of the river, shooting rocks out of the water and through the air. He bound me up with his great forepaws and we plunged beneath the frothy surface, only to launch back up and out, water pouring off of us. The current pushed and buffeted us, rolling with our chaos, striking our faces, deafening us, undermining our footing. My clothes tore. I delivered blow after blow with my fists to his throat and gut. It was like I hit a wall. He slammed me back onto a wet boulder. Tidal waves sprayed. The rock cracked beneath me with a sound like thunder. I kicked him in the chest—like a stallion shattering a gate. He went head over heels straight over me, his teeth latched onto my shirt.

Fabric shredded. I was flung end over end. I slammed face-first down into the river. I shot back up, trying to clear my eyes.

Another wolf struck me. I lost my balance. The water grabbed at my knees. Then another wolf leaped up and bit my hair. With a whip of his head, he jerked out a patch by the roots. He wrenched me sideways. I fell.

Sam bit me. Hard. His massive jaws closed around the back of my neck. He ground down. I reached up and clawed at his face, tearing at his lips and gums with my fingers. I blinked, thrashed, but then he crushed my face down into the river, down against the stones. Over and over. And I began to feel pain.

And then teeth sank down into my left leg. Then my right. A broad paw—Sam's-hammered down right between my shoulder blades and nailed me to the bottom.

My spine was going to snap. Sam knew what he was doing. He was going to tear off my head.

And I was about to die the very day Leah had finally made me want to live.

VVVV

LEAH

I skidded to a halt on my bank near my river. Water sprayed like the swells of the ocean, and rocks flew like bullets. The pack stood in the river, snapping their jaws, howling in challenge, as a great black savage wolf leaped up, eyes red and wild, slammed his paws down on Edward's shoulders, bit the back of his neck and drove him facedown into the river.

_Sam!_

But he did not hear me. Or he would not.

Water exploded upward in sheets of froth as the two went down. Quil and Paul bounded forward, tongues lolling, teeth bared, and plunged their muzzles down into the water to sink their teeth into Edward's legs. Sam thrashed his head, like a dog who has caught a snake, over and over. The echoes of his alpha command hammered against my chest, my head. Sam was trying to keep control, to make me get back, to let him make the kill.

I opened my mouth, raised my hackles, and let out a ferocious, roaring, thrumming growl. And then I threw myself at all of them.

VVVV

EDWARD

Blackness was taking my vision. Not because I could not breathe, but because he was beating me so that my skull rang and would soon break. I scrabbled through the slithering rocks beneath my hands, the sounds of gurgling and muffled howls spinning through my senses. I blinked. I suddenly no longer knew which way was up. My arms went limp.

"_Look at yourself. What's wrong with you?"_ A memory of Leah's challenging voice echoed through my head. I closed my fists, trying to push off the bottom. _"Suck it up, Cullen, and get out of this stream." _ The jaws closed tighter. I let out a roar of pain that smothered under the freezing liquid. My eyes flickered.

_"Do it! Get out of the water!"_

_I can't, Leah_, I answered. _I am sorry…_

Weight jerked off me. I twitched, then hauled myself up onto my hands and knees. I felt I was made of lead. My head broke the surface. And I opened my eyes to see a small gray wolf, her teeth clamped around the nape of Sam's furry neck, twist his entire body through the air and slam him down into the river.

Leah.

The other wolves froze. My head reeled. Balance forsook me. I grasped hold of a slippery boulder, trying to get my bearings—and what I watched from there became the most vicious and brutal fight I had ever seen.

The wolves, knee high in raging river, reared up on their back legs and locked forelegs, and tore at each other's throats with their razor white teeth and awful jaws. Their ears lay flat against their skulls, their eyes blazed red with inhuman fury. Blood flew from Sam's nose. Blood stained Leah's neck.

Leah beat at his face with her claws, and bit his upper lip and tore it. He came around with his own bite and shredded her ear. She latched onto his throat and clamped down. He brought both his colossal paws down on her shoulders and knocked her loose. His fur flew. She crashed down into the water.

"Leah—" I tried. "Sam, don't—!"

But Sam was no longer a human. He was all beast, all bloodlust, all fury. He was not thinking, nor was he listening, or even noting his pain. He was an alpha. And he was going to kill the usurper.

I drew myself up. And I leaped.

I flew through the air, and plunged down knee deep into the water. Sam's head jerked back, just for an instant—I reached down beneath the water and wrapped my arms around Leah's wolf body and hauled her up and out of the river. She was unconscious. I lay her down on the stones, and in an instant I whirled, and faced the black wolf once more.

But he no longer noticed me—his wild eyes were fixed on the limp form of the broken gray wolf behind me. And so I deepened my stance, spread my arms, my hands formed like waiting claws. My eyes flashed, and I opened my mouth, baring all of my own white teeth.

I took a deep breath—and let out an utterly inhuman, deep, feral, resonating, bone-breaking sound. My tongue rippled, my throat pulsated, and the power deep in my soul—the power that radiated from this vampire body like the blast of a nuclear bomb—let loose.

Sam Uley saw me. I met his eyes.

Sam braced his body. Steam rose from his torn back. He bared his bloody teeth. His hackles raised. He prepared to leap at me. I prepared to snap his neck.

And then—

Like a bolt of red lightning, a great, rippling form darted out from the right corner of my vision and crushed the black wolf—the smaller wolf—down, down into the river. Then, the new wolf—the greatest, strongest wolf of all—flung his head up and out of the stream, keeping Sam pinned beneath him. I sucked in a breath of the rush of wind.

Cinnamon.

Jacob Black.

VVVVVV

JACOB BLACK

I thought that breaking that command was going to kill me. Just getting out of Bella's front door had almost broken all my bones. I had been violently sick in her flower beds, and then nearly collapsed.

But once I had staggered off her property, my head had cleared, and I was able to phase and break into the fastest run of my life.

The screams called me—pulled me like a metal hook in the roof of my mouth. I could hear all my pack members roaring—first words, then just primal howls. It was the most savage, bloodthirsty noise I had ever heard.

I tore through the shrubs, wove between the towering trees, racing the dawn—racing against the destruction that we were all bringing down right on our own heads. With every deep, rapid breath I sucked in, I prayed I wouldn't be too late.

I pushed this body harder than I had ever tried, leaping over ravines, almost flying through the air. I followed the chaos. I followed the mayhem. And then I burst into a nightmare.

Far down in the stream, his back to me, Edward Cullen clung to a rock, his clothes shredded, deep purple bruises starting on his neck and arms. The wolves of my pack stood still, ears lowered, their thoughts now thoughts of panic, horror, and uncertainty. They glanced at each other. They whimpered. And I heard Seth screaming—wailing—at the pack leader, begging him to stop.

Because Leah and Sam roiled just beyond, ripping into each other's flesh and fur, aiming deadly bites, and bludgeoning each other with killing force.

It was all clear. Leah was protecting Edward. And Sam was trying to murder her for it.

He had lost his mind—he had let the wolf take over, just as he had with Emily. And this time, if left alone, the consequences would be fatal for the other woman he loved.

I braced myself to enter the fight. And then Sam took her down.

He just crushed her—I know he broke her ribs. The water swallowed her.

_Leah! _I yelped, starting forward.

Edward moved. Swift as an arrow, he darted forward, hauled Leah out of the stream, and then stood over her. Water poured off him in rivers. He spread his feet, stretched his arms out like hawk's wings—

And turned into a monster.

All humanity vanished from his wide, blazing yellow eyes. His jaw muscles tightened as he opened his mouth, and his red tongue rippled—his white teeth suddenly looked razor sharp. And he let out a noise that made me cold all the way down to the center of my heart.

It sucked the breath from my chest and vibrated my skin, hissing like a snake, simmering like boiling water, and roaring like a cougar. Sam looked at him. Sam, who was now wounded, and had lost his grip on his human mind. Sam, who would force Edward to kill him to protect Leah.

_**SAM.**_I roared, and the triple tone in my voice shook the bones of all my pack. They whirled to face me. I did not look at them. I just barreled forward, and took _him_ down.

He never knew what hit him. I smashed him down into that water. I went under too, but he stayed beneath me, pinned with all the new power in my limbs and chest. And then I flung my head up, out of the current. I drew in a deep breath, then climbed off Sam. He clawed his way up. I towered over him.

_**Sam Uley—**_I thundered. _**Get. Back. **_

_Jacob? What…? _He gasped, but he backpedaled without realizing it, blood and water streaming from his face. I heaved another breath, and strode to stand beside Edward. My head was level with the vampire's. We both looked to Sam. The rest of the pack shuffled forward, ears perked, questions hammering through their heads at a panicked rate. I glanced at all of them.

_**We will not be killing Edward Cullen—and we're not killing Leah, our sister, either. Have you all lost your minds?**_

_Jacob? _Embry whimpered. _Are you…?_

_I am the alpha_, I finished for him, letting the rumble of my alpha voice die away. _Because Sam has lost it. _

_Jacob, you can't do this—_Sam gasped.

_I just did_, I snapped back. _Everybody go home, phase back and clean up, and then we can discuss this like actual human beings. _

Nobody said anything. Quil and Embry departed first, then Paul. Seth crawled forward, whining and ducking so low he almost scraped the ground, until he had gotten around Edward. Then he lay down in front of his sister and licked her face worriedly. She did not revive. Sam stood in the river, whose streams had gone quiet, staring at me, his thoughts hollow. I glanced at Edward.

His wild look had vanished. His eyes were blank, gazing straight ahead And those dark purple bruises on his neck and shoulder had turned black.

He swayed—almost fell. I hesitated a moment, then side-stepped toward him a few inches, and waited. His head tilted toward me, and then he closed his eyes, reached out and put his hand in my mane, and leaned on me.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

_Yes, this is the last chapter—I am sad to see it end! But it is a nice long one, for you dedicated readers, without whom this story would never have reached its potential. This chapter is particularly dedicated to SilverTippedFeather, who has encouraged me greatly. If all of you found pleasure in this story, please leave me a review, however short. I treasure them. J Thank you once more, from the bottom of my heart, and please enjoy. _

_VVVVVVVVVVVV_

ELEVEN

_The youth stirred, and reached out his hand to the maiden._

_He had been frozen for so long that he was very weak._

_The maiden took his hand_

_And together they walked out of the room and down the stairs._

_There on the second floor_

_Waited the troll princess, an axe in her hand._

_Quickly the maiden took the small bow and arrow from beneath her rags_

_And shot the troll princess in the heart._

EDWARD

Nothing was terribly clear for at least an hour. At first, I leaned almost all my weight against Jacob's great neck. It mortified me, but I had no choice—I would have fallen otherwise. My consciousness—or attention—even faded in and out. I absently wondered what Sam's jaws had done to me, and if he had caused permanent damage. But thoughts of myself were secondary next to the dominating fear that paralyzed my movements—fear for the small gray wolf.

I wanted to help—tried to help—when Jacob and Seth phased and picked Leah up to carry her back to her house, but Jacob told me to stay back. I shuffled after them down the path, dripping wet, trying to get my head to clear. Sam had ducked off into the trees—I don't know where he went.

Seth, Jacob and I had just reached Leah's yard when she caught a moment of consciousness, and in a quaking, whimpering fit, she phased back into her broken human body. Shreds of her sarong still hung around her, and Seth and Jacob covered her, their faces tight with distress. I could not bear look at her—the bones of her right arm were in pieces.

Now, I leaned against the doorframe of the Clearwaters' living room, arms folded. Leah, unconscious again, lay on her back on the couch wearing one of Seth's sleeveless shirts and his baggy sweatpants. Her arm was bound in a sling—Jacob and I had managed to set her bones. A large bruise stood out around her right eye, her lip was split, and lacerations lined the skin of her neck and arms. Jacob sat on a short stool before her, his back to me, his arms resting on his knees. Seth had gone to get their mother.

I shifted, purposefully taking a breath. Again, I was clad in Seth's clothes. I did not mind their scent now, or that of Jacob Black. And Leah's scent of pine and fire—I held onto it, drawing it in, for I sensed it fading. I swallowed hard.

"Will she die?"

Jacob, wearing jeans and a black shirt now, did not turn his head.

"I don't think so. But there's no way to set her ribs if they've misaligned without surgery—and if her spine is broken..." He took a deep breath, then did not go on. Something sat like a rock in my gut. I straightened, then leaned my back against the doorframe. My brow tightened, and I reached up to rub my eyes, then covered them.

"This is my fault," I whispered. "I did this." I took a step toward Jacob, my voice thickening. "I should have let them kill me. Then Sam would have been satisfied and Leah wouldn't have tried to protect me."

Jacob did not move for a long time. And then, his dark head tilted, and he looked at me out of the corner of his obsidian eye.

"You think so?" he asked quietly. "You don't think a fight between Sam and Leah has been a long time coming?" He faced me more fully. "And you think you being dead would make her _happier?" _

I stared at him, baffled. Jacob sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He returned his gaze to Leah.

"Leah told me. She showed me everything," he muttered, then shook his head. "Yay for telepathy."

"Everything?" I stammered.

"Relax, leech," Jacob answered. "It was a good thing." He looked at me again. I froze.

"She cares about you," he said. "A lot. That's why I decided to break the alpha command." He got up, took a blanket off the back of the couch, and gently draped it over Leah. "And I haven't heard a thank you for that yet, by the way."

"Jacob," I managed, feeling like I was reaching the limit of what I could endure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jacob sighed again, then turned to face me. I saw the guarded look in his eyes, even if I couldn't read his mind. But his frame carried resignation—and even a little detached sadness—and _that_ arrested my attention.

"I smelled you on Leah," Jacob told me. "I made her tell me what had been going on. We phased, and she let me in her head, and I saw everything—all her memories of you. And everything she thought about you." Jacob's mouth tightened for a moment, but he looked at me squarely. "And I told her I wouldn't hurt you, because you had saved her life. But I also told her to tell _you _to get the heck out of Dodge, because all hell would break loose once Sam found out. But she didn't have the chance." Jacob turned and gazed down at her. "Sam followed us, and gave us an alpha command—an unbreakable order. He told Leah to go inside her house and stay there, and he told me to go protect Bella, while he went with the rest of the pack to kill you." Jacob met my eyes again. "Both of us broke the command. I can't tell you for sure what happened with Leah, but if it was anything like the up-ended torture that _I _went through…" Again, he trailed off, and I was left with what my vivid imagination could provide.

My eyes fixed on Leah's still face, and pain riddled my chest. Why was it that, wherever I went, whoever I touched, all I brought was suffering?

Jacob sat down again. Neither of us spoke any more.

I wanted to kneel next to Leah, to brush that stray strand of hair away from her forehead, lay my hand on her brow and whisper to her, to beg her forgiveness. I longed to plead with her to open her dark, bright eyes and just look at me.

But I couldn't. Not with Jacob there. I had to stand where I was, unmoving, caressing her with only my gaze, all of my pleas caught in my throat.

"Bella knows."

I blinked. Something went off-kilter, as if I stood on a slanted deck of a ship. That name sounded so strange, so awkward, cutting into my thoughts like that and invading the open air of this room…

"What?"

Jacob spoke tightly, without looking at me.

"Bella knows you're here."

The reality of what he'd said slammed into me. My eyes went wide.

"_What?_ Why?"

"You were trying to keep it a secret?" Jacob turned a strange look on me.

"I swore to her that she'd never see me again," I snapped, my stomach suddenly churning with strange, old emotions. "I meant it when I told her she didn't belong with me—I wanted her to be able to _live_ without—"

Jacob stood up so fast even I didn't see it, and grabbed my arm. He yanked me around, and we were halfway through the door before I realized that he was protecting Leah's rest from the noise of a quarrel. I instantly gave in, and went with Jacob. He let go of me. We came to the threshold of the front door, and he wheeled around and faced me. His black eyes blazed.

"Listen," he hissed. "It wasn't exactly my idea. But I had to give Bella some sort of explanation after I spent five minutes dry-heaving in her front yard."

Our eyes locked. I did not answer. Something in Jacob's hard exterior cracked. He looked down before I could see through it.

"And now that she knows…" He took a breath. "She wants to see you."

The stone in my gut turned to shards of glass.

"No," I said. "No. I won't do it."

Jacob lifted his eyes to me.

"You owe me."

Now I was lost. I stared at him, trying in earnest to understand what it was he had just meant. His face gave away nothing—just hard determination, as if he had a bullet clamped between his teeth.

"What?" I managed stupidly.

"I saved your butt," he said. "Even if you had managed to take down Sam, the other pack members would have been _on _you—heck, I might have been forced to kill you myself. You owe me a favor."

"No, I understand that part," I waved him off, my brow knotted so hard it hurt. "I just don't understand…" I gazed back at him, almost imploring him to finish my thought for me.

"…why I would let you anywhere near the girl I love when she loved _you _first?" he said, with a bluntness that hit me in the chest. I swallowed. He stepped an inch closer to me. I braced myself for an insult, for a belittling comment about how he wanted to prove that I was no longer a threat, and that he had conquered Bella Swan's heart for all to see. But instead, that crack in his hard exterior opened wider, and that distant sadness came near. It illuminated his eyes.

"Would you want a girl to be with you because she was settling?" he whispered. "Or because, given an option, she _chose_ you?"

For a long moment, I could not speak. And then my eyes were drawn back into that living room where Leah lay asleep. My head came back around, and I burned Jacob with my eyes.

"I will not take Bella back," I bit out, the back of my throat stinging. Jacob blinked.

"I don't think you're in that position," he said. "Seems to me like _she _would be the one deciding whether or not to take _you _back." Jacob started to go back into the living room.

"Really, Jacob—" I called, still bewildered. "Why would you do this?"

He stopped, and looked at me.

"Haven't you ever heard that old saying?"

I waited. He looked away.

"'If you love someone, let her go. If she returns, she was always yours. If she doesn't, she never was.'" He strode back into the living room. "Go on, Edward. She'll be at the Forks High parking lot at ten. Don't keep her waiting."

VVVVVV

I went by my house before I worked my way to the high school. I put on my gray pea coat, even though it was warm out, and turned up the collar. I did not want anyone to see my bruises.

I told myself that this was nothing—that I could do this. But even as I dragged my way to the parking lot, as if my limbs were made of stone, my stomach rolled, my jaw clenched, and I felt colder than I had when I had sunk beneath that river. Perhaps I did not have to imagine too hard to grasp what Jacob and Leah had gone through when they defied that alpha command.

I took short steps, my hands rammed in my pockets, my head low. This is what it was like to swallow a poisonous cocktail of guilt, anxiety, humiliation, awkwardness, and dread, compounded and thickened by an inexorable force pulling me toward her, like a meteor pulled in by gravity—or a moth to a flame. And along with that, there was a haze in my mind, and an uncertainty in my balance that made me feel like I was walking in a dream.

I crossed the asphalt. The trees retreated, and the cloudy sky opened up above me. My right foot hit a stone that skittered away. I lifted my head.

There, in the very spot where I had saved her from the careening van, stood Bella Swan. She wore jeans and a brown jacket, and she stood by the passenger door of her beat up orange pickup. Her eyes found me.

I stopped.

And one thought ran through my mind:

_She looks _so_ young._

She was still a remarkably pretty girl, her dark eyes and full lips set off by her chestnut hair and pale skin. Her countenance bore the mark of two losses: that of her parents' marriage—and me. I felt a smile full of pain try to start on my face.

Only two.

And I couldn't even bear to look in the mirror at _my_ scars anymore.

I took ten more steps toward her. I counted them. Our eyes never wavered from each other. I stopped when I was still ten steps from her. And I knew, before we exchanged a word, that she was no longer the same Bella Swan I had left behind.

Her lips parted. I did not breathe. Her eyes softened.

"Hello, Edward."

I softened my own gaze, strange, sweet, familiar anguish flooding my chest.

"Hello, Bella Swan."

VVVVV

LEAH

"Edward?"

I wondered who had spoken his name into the silence—until I felt my lips close. My eyes and eyelids ached—even more so when I tried to open them. My eyes only dimly focused, and then sharp pain lanced down my entire right side.

I jerked, which clenched all my muscles and forced a jagged grunt from my chest. I screwed my eyes shut. My right arm was bent at the elbow, and held tight against me by something like a bandage or a sling. And then a hand pressed against my forehead. It was warm. My eyes flew open.

"Jacob?" I rasped. He gave me a crooked smile.

"Hi, Leah."

I frowned, and made my eyes focus this time.

"What happened?"

He shrugged.

"You saved Edward's butt. Then he saved yours. Then I saved his." He took his hand away from my face, and knelt down beside me, resting his elbows on the edge of the couch. "It's been a busy day."

I turned my head toward him, studying his face—his face that bore forced levity. My throat choked, and it took a minute for me to force out the word.

"Sam?"

Jacob jerked his head away, and his jaw muscles worked. He sucked in a breath, then met my eyes again.

"He's around. Somewhere. Took off into the woods after I finished the fight for him."

I let out a rattling breath and stared at the ceiling. A ceiling I recognized as the one in my living room.

"How did I get back here?" I wondered faintly.

"Seth and I carried you," Jacob answered. "Edward tried to help, but he was a little unsteady on his feet."

I blinked, and turned back to him.

"Is he all right?"

Jacob watched me for a moment, then nodded once.

"Yeah. He's with Bella."

Nothing happened for a moment. Then, a sickening, cold sensation, like half-frozen mercury sliding down my throat into my stomach, stopped my heart and chilled my bones.

"With…With Bella?" I stammered. He nodded. I sat up.

"Hey, hey! What are you trying to do?" Jacob cried, but I grimaced and forced my stomach muscles to lift me into a sitting position. I sat up, leaned sideways against the back of the couch, and let out a gasping breath, then panted until the pain subsided. Jacob got up and sat just behind me on the couch, and I felt his shoulder against my back. I felt him touch my injured elbow with his fingers, not wanting to hurt me.

"Don't try to get up," he warned. "I know you broke your ribs."

"I don't care about my ribs," I snarled. "I want to know _why _Edward is with Bella."

"Because she found out he was here. And I…" He let out a breath. And when he spoke next, his voice carried quiet power, and the most desperate desire I had ever heard:

"And I want her to look him in the face, and choose me instead."

My panic mounted.

"How did she find out?" I demanded.

"I had to explain what was happening when I broke the command."

I stopped. I twisted my head, but could not move more for the pain. I could barely see him behind me out of the corner of my eye. Finally, what he had been saying earlier made sense to me.

"You broke the command?"

"Yeah," Jacob murmured. My breath locked as amazement shook me.

"Why?" I whispered.

He didn't answer. He just leaned forward and rested his chin on my right shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut—because that gesture, and his radiating warmth, told me all I needed to know.

"Thanks, Jake," I breathed, unable to make more sound. I tilted my head so my crown rested against his temple. For a long time, we were silent, and I fought back the thickness in my throat, and the burning in my eyes.

"So…" I managed, though my voice broke. "Who do you think they'll choose?"

Jacob did not answer. I just felt him swallow—and a shudder ran through him.

"Do we even have a chance?" I murmured. Again, he said nothing. And tears ran down my face.

Jacob scooted in and wrapped his arms around me, gently, and tucked his chin snugly against my neck. I cried there, silently. He held me as I shuddered there, weak with pain. I felt his jagged, fearful heartbeat against my back, and realized that not only my tears ran down my neck.

VVVVV

EDWARD

For a long time, neither of us used our voices again. We just gazed at each other, remembering the curves and angles of faces we knew like the backs of our hands. Then, finally, Bella lifted her eyebrows, just minutely, and spoke.

"You broke your promise," she murmured. "You said I would never see you again."

I drew in a breath. It was shallow, and tight.

"I didn't think you would," I confessed. "I came back because Rosalie told me you'd killed yourself."

Bella stared at me for a moment, then frowned sharply.

"_Killed_ myself? Wha—Why would she think that?"

My mouth tightened.

"Alice saw a vision of you jumping off a cliff into the ocean," I told her. I glanced down as my voice lowered. "There aren't many ways to interpret that."

"I was cliff-diving," she said, as if my reaction was strange. "The La Push guys do it all the time."

I met her eyes.

"That sounds reckless."

She shrugged stiffly.

"They get reckless when they're bored."

I gave her a pointed look.

"I meant for you."

She straightened.

"I didn't get hurt—"

"But you could have," I cut in. "And I asked you not to do anything reckless. You broke _your _promise first—so our agreement doesn't matter."

Bella's mouth worked for a moment, then she made a sound that was almost a laugh, and she shook her head.

"I don't really recall there being any 'agreement," she said, giving me a severe look. "I just remember you telling me you didn't want me anymore, and leaving. And I had to figure out how to deal with that."

"By jumping off _cliffs?_" I cried, so much pain welling up inside my chest that I almost couldn't contain it.

"Yes!" she yelped, throwing her hands out in exasperation. "And riding motorcycles and crashing them, and walking through dark alleys and other stupid stuff because…because I thought it made me feel closer to you."

Her volume had dropped as her sentence went on. I fixed my eyes on her, and narrowed them.

"What?"

She looked at me, and her mouth tightened.

"Yeah," she muttered, giving a futile gesture. "Every time I thought about doing something dangerous, there was your voice in my head saying 'Bella, don't.' 'Bella, stop.' 'Bella, back up.' 'Bella, no. No. No.' All you said was 'no.'" She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "But I wanted to hear your voice so bad, no matter what you said, so I kept doing that stuff." Bella nodded, once. "Until Jacob pulled me out of the water at La Push." She opened her eyes. "Jacob made me tell him what I was doing, and why. After he listened to me, he said I was acting like a junkie—doing more and more dangerous things to get my fix, more and more often, but getting sicker and sicker. And he was right."

_God help me_, I prayed in horror—for I could feel my heart breaking all over again.

"Jacob decided to do something about it," Bella told me. "But instead of stopping me—he went with me."

I must have shown my surprise on my face, for she gave a half smile.

"Yeah—I went cliff diving again. With him." She chuckled. "And even though I crashed a couple times, he kept teaching me to drive the motorcycle so I finally got the hang of it. Until I forgot it was dangerous, because I knew what to do." She paused. Her face gained a strange aspect—regret; mixed with triumph. "And I stopped hearing your voice."

A long time passed, and again our eyes locked. My chest had clamped, and I could not breathe. I shook my head.

"I can't believe Jacob put you in those situations."

She held my gaze.

"I'm not made of glass, Edward," she murmured.

I just stared at her. I could do nothing else. She was so transformed—she had gained the mark of deep sorrow but she seemed more—_alive_ than before. I smelled the perfume of her blood even more now, and the beat of her heart was steady. For a moment, I just listened—and then I stopped, a sudden realization hitting me. Her heart…

It wasn't beating jaggedly, like Leah's. Instead, it sounded like pure music—deeper and louder and healthier than ever. I swallowed hard.

"Listen to us," I whispered. "Arguing. I hadn't planned on arguing."

She canted her head, and spoke carefully.

"Why _did_ you come, Edward?"

I bit back the pang I felt at the sound of my name on her lips.

"Because Jacob said you wanted to see me," I confessed.

"No, I didn't," she said. Then she stopped herself. "I mean, I didn't ask him to tell you that."

I raised my eyebrows as puzzle pieces came together.

"Then he must be testing you, Bella."

"No." Her voice was firm, and she shook her head once. "Jacob doesn't test me. He gives me the freedom to choose." Her voice lowered, but I heard her.

"He trusts me."

There it was. She hadn't been meaning to say it, but it came out. This was the difference that she saw between myself and Jacob. And it might be enough.

I took a breath, and finally asked the question I had been meaning to ask all along.

"Do you love him?"

She looked at me. Her brow tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Bella," I soothed. "It's all right. You can be honest. Do you love him?"

Her tears spilled over, and she swiped them away. But then she nodded once, then again—harder.

"I do." She choked. Then she gave a sudden, startled laugh, and looked at me as if she had been struck by an epiphany. "I do."

I raised my eyebrows.

"You seem surprised."

"I am. I mean…" Her brow furrowed, and her gaze grew distant. "It's not the same. I mean, I don't dream about him or sit by the phone waiting for him to call—and I don't feel that deep, almost…_sweet _pain that I missed so much when I lost you." She lifted her eyes, and she was suddenly, vividly, _in_ the moment. "I laugh at him when he does something stupid and I worry about him when he's out with the pack and I grin like an idiot when he compliments my cooking. We disagree and we fight—sometimes we drive each other crazy." She paused. "He's my friend." Her visage became thoughtful again. "And somewhere along the way, he became the one who was more important than my pain." She hesitated a long moment, as if forming her thought completely before she voiced it. "Jacob is…" she began, speaking slowly. "Jacob is my heartbeat." She met my eyes. "And I can't ever leave it. Even if I tried."

A slow almost-smile started on my mouth—for what she described sounded familiar to me. Bella studied me, uncertain.

"You're not mad at me?"

I shook my head and sighed, my almost-smile remaining.

"How could I be, Bella?" I hesitated, watching her. "Are you angry with _me?"_

Her eyes widened.

"No. I mean, yes." She shook her head, beginning again. "I mean, not at first. I was too confused, too shocked." She took a breath. "But then, about a month after I jumped off that cliff, I _did _get angry at you. I blamed you for being the reason that I believed, all that time, that I didn't deserve to be loved. And when I started to realize that was a lie, then yeah, I got really mad at you. Because I _do_ deserve to be loved." She tempered her words with a soft smile. Her smile faded. "And then I started to forget. Not on purpose—but I got distracted and Jacob kept me busy." She gazed at me, as if from a distance. "And then, one night, I realized I wasn't angry with you anymore. I actually…I actually felt sorry for you."

Her words sank deep inside me, bringing the penetrating pain of finality—and inevitability.

At last, she understood.

"Why did you feel sorry for me?" I asked, needing to hear her say it out loud.

She stopped. I knew she would have difficulty with this—she didn't want to hurt me. But I kept my expression open, listening, and at last she spoke.

"I want to have kids," she told me. "And I want to be a grandma who cooks Thanksgiving dinner and spoils the grandkids." Her visage gained an earnestness—a plea for me to understand, and not be hurt. "I don't want to live forever, frozen in one spot." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "You were right. So…thanks."

I shook my head.

"I didn't do you any service."

"No, you did," she insisted. "If I had never known you, I would not have stuck up a conversation with Jacob Black on a beach once upon a time." She put her hands into her pockets, and shrugged one shoulder. "And if you hadn't left me…I would not have needed him to save me—and he wouldn't have been able to teach me that I _actually_ needed to save myself. You led me to him. Like the north star or something."

I marveled at her metaphor, then acknowledged with one nod.

"That, at least, is something," I said quietly. "I am only sorry that I caused you so much pain."

"It's okay," she murmured. "I forgave you a long time ago."

Again, we met each other's eyes, and the awkwardness was gone. Understanding replaced it—understanding, and resignation.

Bella shifted her weight, and spoke again.

"How long have you been here?"

I forced the intake of another breath.

"Since Harry Clearwater's funeral."

She raised her eyebrows.

"That long? Where have you been?"

"In the forests in La Push, by the side of a river," I murmured.

"Doing what?" Bella murmured.

I closed my eyes for a moment. My thoughts wandered—lit by visions of a crystal river drenched in sparkling sunlight—of flickering leaves and the scent of pine, and the sight of two black eyes that saw right through me. A warm glow settled in my chest, and spread outward, driving the cold from my limbs.

"Learning," I said, my eyes still closed. And when I opened them again, I swallowed hard. No matter the circumstance, or the changes that had been wrought upon us by the worthy ones who had fought so hard to win us, I hated to say these words to sweet Bella again.

"I am happy that you are alive, and well," I said. She nodded. I gazed at her for one more, long moment, my resolve hardening as I saw the healthy bloom in her cheeks, and the light in her eyes. Now, I was strong enough to do what I should have done in the beginning. Now, I had gained something I had desperately lacked to _make _me that strong. And it sat within my chest, that incandescent glow, that warmth—that complete absence of bittersweet pain.

"Goodbye, Bella Swan," I said. "May you have a long life, full of laughing children."

Her face looked sad. And so I spoke again, only to ease it.

"Perhaps I will see you again in the next life."

She watched me, absorbing my words. But her heartbeat did not pound faster, nor did her breathing tighten. She watched me. And I felt her let me go.

"I'm sure you will," she said, with sincere conviction—enough to make me believe. "Goodbye."

We held each other's gazes, and I wondered at her—much as you would, dear reader, if a bird suddenly came to light on your shoulder, and you gazed into her eyes. For those brief moments, you would entertain the enchanting idea that the bird really _did _understand you, and shared a kinship with you, even though she was only a little bird with a little life that would burn bright as a match before going out. And then, as that bird sat and sang on your shoulder, you would be faced with a choice: take the bird, and cage her, and keep her with you until the end of her days—for she would take great pleasure in singing for you, and she would delight you with her lovely plumage and bright eye. But then—then, she would die without ever seeing the sun again, or feeling the high winds beneath her wings.

And so, after listening to the bird's spritely song, you would realize that you—who would live infinitely longer than the little bird—ought not rob her of the glory of her much shorter life. And so you would nudge her off your shoulder, she would give a startled chirp, and then—

Oh, and _then_—the marvelous sight of her taking flight, into the blazing light of the sun, to live in the wind and sing in the flowered trees, and take a mate, and live out the rest of that match-stick life full of the desperate joy that comes from having a number on one's days.

I memorized the sight of Bella there—memorized the feeling of _right_ that flooded me. I inclined my head to her, turned, and walked away from her, up the road again, and though I did not think of it, I had gone almost a mile before I realized I had not looked back.

VVVVV

I did not know where I was headed—I wandered, lost in thought, one weight lifted off me, to be replaced by another. I watched my feet move through the grass, and then the foliage of the woods. It was cloudy—the sun kept trying to peek through, but was always deterred by a gray shroud. I passed between the thick, silent trunks of the trees, steadily regaining my balance and my constitution. My head stayed lowered, my eyes unfocused. And so I stopped mere feet in front of Jacob Black—he stood just in my path, his arms crossed. I lifted my head.

His eyes searched my face with earnest openness, his brow tight, his eyes brilliant.

"Well?" he asked. I smiled at him. I could not manage a full one, but what I gave him was genuine.

"She made her choice," I said. "And it was you."

He stared at me. Then, he swallowed hard, turned aside and pressed the back of his fist to his lips. For an instant, I saw tears sparkle in his eyes, then he let out a watery sigh, rubbed his eyes and turned and stuck out his right hand to me. I gauged it a moment, then grasped it.

"Never thought I'd say this," he said, then cleared his throat and looked at me. "But you're all right."

I held onto his warm hand for a moment.

"So are you."

We released each other, and then it was _my_ turn to search _his_ face.

"How is Leah?"

"She's up and walking around," Jacob sighed, then put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "She's such a bull-head."

"Did she go somewhere?" I pressed, my concern mounting. Jacob nodded.

"Not sure where. I didn't push her. But I know she didn't go to the river."

My jaw tightened, and I glanced down. Jacob studied me.

"She'll want to see you."

I shook my head.

"It's better if I don't," I muttered. "Better for her."

"Will you quit deciding what's good for girls _after _they've gotten attached to you?" Jacob snapped. "Why don't you let _her _decide, huh? Leah's a big girl—she can take care of herself."

I stared at him.

"Is that some sort of blessing, coming from the pack leader?" I asked. Jacob smirked.

"The closest thing you're going to get to it, leech," he said, then stepped past me. "I'm going to see Bells. Get after Leah, before I have to hurt you."

I stared at the now empty path before me, unmoving. I heard Jacob step up behind me.

"Go," he said, and then he cuffed me lightly on the back of the head. A human would have fallen flat on his face. I just felt it thud against me—

My skull buzzed. I lost my balance and fell against a tree. Panic shot through me as I grabbed a branch.

Something popped inside my head, loosened, and released.

_—he okay? Crap, did I hit him that hard?_

Cold liquid trickled out my right ear. My balance instantly righted. I stood up, and slapped a hand to my ear. My white palm came away covered with watery blood.

_Yuck! What is that?_

I whirled to stare at Jacob.

"Did you say something?"

His eyes went wide.

_What is he talking about?_

"Um, no…?"

He looked at me sideways, his bright eyes wary.

_Is this some sort of trick?_

Oh, that was _definitely _Jacob's voice—but he wasn't moving his mouth. A slow smile spread across my face.

"I can hear what you're thinking."

His surprise and disconcertion hit me like a welcome wind to a stranded sailor.

"What?"

I laughed out loud. The relief that rushed through me was so great I _almost_ threw my arms around him like George Bailey did to Burt the cop at the end of "It's a Wonderful Life." Instead, I settled for rapping his forehead with my knuckles, which sent a string of curses rattling from his head. It made me laugh again.

"Thank you, Jacob Black," I said. "You're free to hit me in the head any time you want."

And with that, I took off, leaving a stunned alpha behind me.

VVVVVVV

I knew right where Leah had gone. I raced up the path, not as worn as the others, new vigor in my limbs. I raced past familiar trees, up, up toward the sky, until at last I came to the place Leah had brought me long ago, the first day we had gone anywhere together—the day I had first begun to listen to her heart.

I halted, silent, by a tree, and hid in its shadow.

There Leah sat, just where she had before, her back to me, facing the broad sky and the vast forest below her. And just in that moment, the sun won its battle, and broke through the clouds, covering Leah with golden light—and with it came the flood of her thoughts and emotions. And for the first time, I _heard _her.

Beneath the hard surface, which acted like a sound-proof room, the simple chords of her musings bloomed into a symphony that was so breathtakingly beautiful I could not move. The treble of her meandering thoughts was like a harp, but the bass was a steady pulse: the steady, broken beat of her heart.

I stepped out into the sun, still silent, closing my eyes and listening even deeper.

I took a breath, which was suddenly very difficult. This song beneath, the hidden music she had succeeded so long in burying, carried so many emotions, all of them powerful. Her armored defenses, even when she was here alone, were harsh, critical, and bitter. But the melody underscoring this hard shell was _gorgeous_—the sweetest, most tender, gentle and loving thoughts I had ever heard. And the combination sent an ache right through me that took my breath from my body.

And it was only after listening—and finally hearing the whole of that which was Leah Clearwater—that I made a sound with my step, heard her notice my presence, and dared to near her side.

VVVVVV

LEAH

I heard him make a sound on purpose. I had known he was there for a minute or two, but I didn't have the energy to say anything, or turn. My entire side still hurt, but the sun felt good on my skin. And the tears that ran down my cheeks and neck soothed the ache in my heart.

He came and sat down on my right. Our shoulders almost touched. I did not look at him. I felt him turn his head, and study me. For a long while, neither of us spoke. I wasn't going to say anything. I knew why he had come. I knew he was here to say goodbye.

"I suppose you know where I've been," he murmured.

"Doesn't everybody?" I murmured, not bothering to check the flow of tears that slid down my face. I swallowed. "And how was the love fest?"

"I would hardly call it that—"

"There's no point in wasting your time feeling sorry for me, or duty bound, or whatever," I shook my head and closed my eyes. "I know where you went, and I know why you're here. So go back to your precious _Isabella _and leave me alone."

He paused.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," I insisted, still staring straight ahead through the blur of my tears. "I always say what I mean."

"You may mean it right now, because you're angry," his soft voice said by my ear. "But it's not what you want."

"Who the heck are you, to tell me what I want?" I demanded, fresh tears spilling down. "You have no idea what I want."

"Yes, I do," he said quietly.

"Oh, really?" I snapped. "What is it, then?"

There was a moment of silence, and then he slid his cool hands up to cradle my tearstained face. Before I could move, he had turned me toward him—

And for just an instant, I saw straight into his vibrant, sunlit, topaz eyes before he pressed his lips deeply to mine. Stunned, I let my eyelids flutter closed, as shock and wonder coursed in thrilling, almost painful paths through my chest, and my pulse raced with fire.

He kissed me over and over, in a different, gentler fashion each time, and I found myself responding, losing all my reason, and every train of thought.

Then, he withdrew, just inches, and gazed at me, still cradling my face. I marveled at his beauty, at the lines of his pale face, and the way the wind ruffled his hair.

Then, he bent his head, and pressed his lips to my jaw, where the newest tear had fallen. One by one, he cooled each heated tear with the press of his kiss, until at last that gentle pressure rested against first my right eyelid, and then my left.

At last, when my eyes drifted opened again, and he sat so close to me that the coolness of him soothed my fever, his brilliant eyes traced my features, and he brushed a strand of hair away from my face.

"And I know what _I _want, Leah Clearwater," he whispered. "I want to be the one to make sure that you never, ever have another reason to cry."

"That might be a challenge," I warned, trying to blink away the last of my tears.

"Oh, I'm very stubborn," he smirked. "You'll have to beat me away with a stick."

"I might try that," I chuckled, my eyes welling up again. His eyes twinkled.

"I can withstand a lot. You'll have to do more than—"

But new tears had spilled, and I could not let him finish. I got up on my knees, so my head was higher than his, wrapped my good arm around his shoulders, bent and kissed him more fiercely than I had ever kissed anyone, with all the passion and relief and _joy _in my body. And then he rose beneath me, carrying the kiss, and wrapped his arms around me—gentle, but not afraid. Careful of my injury, but not worried. His lips locked and moved with mine as if he knew he could not break me, and I pressed against him as if I knew he could not hurt me. Because he couldn't. And he wouldn't.

And there, beneath the light of the sun, high above the sweeping forests of La Push, I felt the pieces of my heart click back together, and bind with a new, unbreakable fastening, until it was stronger than it ever had been.

And for just an instant, as Edward Cullen held me pressed against his chest, I swear I felt, beneath the strength of his silent chest, his heart give a single, powerful beat.

VVV

_Suddenly the castle was filled with sounds of joy and laughter._

_All of the stone statues which lined the halls began to move_

_And return to life,_

_For they had all been enchanted by the troll princess_

_And her mother._

_In a happy celebration, the maiden and the youth were married,_

_And crowned king and queen of that land._

_The troll castle was taken apart stone by stone._

_A new castle was built in its place,_

_And a city rose about it._

_From that day onward,_

_If any traveler on the open road_

_Asked the way to a kingdom that lay east of the sun and west of the moon,_

_People would answer,_

"_The way to that kingdom is hard,_

_But if you reach it,_

_You will find a welcome within."_

**FIN**

_Once upon a broken heart_

_I was walking alone in the dark_

_Looking for a way to start again_

_What I wouldn't give for a friend_

_There was no love in my life_

_There was no light in my eyes_

_All the tears that I had cried and cried_

_Seemed like they'd never end_

_And I never believed fairy tales came true_

_But now I know that they really do_

_Now that I've found you_

_Now that I'm here with you_

_Just look at the sun shine!_

_And you showed me a world I'd never seen_

_I woke up and fell into this dream_

_Happily ever after just took time_

_Once upon this broken heart of mine._

_This is the way a fairytale feels_

_This is the way I know it's real_

_Because this is the way a broken heart_

_**Heals.**_

_-"Once Upon A Broken Heart" _

_by The Beu Sisters_

_FIN_

_A/N: Thank you so much, dear readers. Go ahead and listen to this last song on youtube. It's a perfect ending for this story. :)_


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